


The Art of Learning to Change

by slyth_princess



Series: The Art of Learning [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2568890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyth_princess/pseuds/slyth_princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the war, Draco Malfoy still woke with nightmares.So he had escaped the life of luxury he had always known to a simple life, hidden away from everyone. Yet sometimes it isn't as easy to escape your past as you want it to be. And sometimes, the things you thought you knew end up being completely wrong. What will he do when his life in danger and the only person he can trust is the last person he ever expected?</p><p>Harry Potter was quite settled into his life. He had his best friends, his dream job, a nice flat in his favorite city, and people around him he truly saw as family. So what if he was single? Sometimes, however, the universe has different plans for you than you have for yourself. What will he do when his duty and honor lead him to the one person who always knew how to shake his life up and challenge everything he thought he knew?</p><p>Otherwise known as the story of two stubborn, hot headed wizards navigating the subtlety of their biggest challenge yet. Learning how to change.</p><p>(This fic was previously known as Can't Go On)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Ok, typical mumbo jumbo. I do not own any of these characters, with the exception of around 3 original characters who you will meet later in the story. All of the original storylines and characters belong to the ever brilliant J.K Rowling. This is simply an homage to her phenomenal work.
> 
> This fic is slightly AU. There are characters not dead that died in canon, and the epilogue is completely ignored. I also take creative license to have the characters have grown since school in a way that fits the tale I am weaving. I hope you can forgive me for that if it does not fit your mental image of who they would have become. Also, if I mess up British customs or wording, I apologize. I do the best I can.
> 
> One little warning. This is going to be a Harry/Draco relationship with complete with shameless flirting, lots of gooey romance, pre slash, and possible slash later in the story. So, if any of these concepts disturb you, I would get out now. Currently the rating is set to M for drinking, adult language, dark topics, hints of sex, and sexy scenes. Though there is a chance it will get upped to E later at my personal discretion. There will be mentions of violence, but nothing to gorey.
> 
> And last but not least, I want to give all the thank's in the world to all of the amazing betas who have worked with me. I am horrible at updating and go long spances with nothing, so the fact that so many amazing people have been able to help me has been amazing. Thank you to you all.
> 
> So, without further ado, please enjoy The Art of Learning.

It was 4:30 in the morning when Draco shot up in bed. He was dripping with sweat and could feel a lump swelling in the back of his throat. Another nightmare had woken him out of a dead sleep, and though that wasn't the first time that had happened lately, this nightmare had been more hellish than he was used to. It had been 5 years since the war, and for the most part life in the wizarding world had gone back to some semblance of normal. Most people had been able to go back to their homes and families, even as broken as they were. People had jobs to attend to, school to complete, and lives that had to move forward. Yet for some, the nightmares of what had happened, of what they had done, would continue for the rest of their lives. Draco was one of those people. Nearly every night since the war the nightmares had been the same, just with different names, different faces, and different screams. Though he would never admit it to anyone, he deeply regretted everything he had done while the Dark Lord was in power. He had never really wanted to hurt anyone, much less torture them. All he had wanted was to be someone else, with a different lineage and a different fate--to be able to make his own mistakes. But, as it had been, he was a Malfoy, and that meant he had two choices: take the Dark Mark and face the horrors that would ensue, or abandon his family for the Golden Boy's side, and face the horrors that that would entail. His choice had always been clear.

As he shook his head to clear the last of the dark images from his mind left over from a less than pleasant slumber, he took a second to take in his surroundings. Through the darkness, he took in the few items he had left. A few books on hexes from his family library, a handful of sweaters and pants, and a set of silver and green sheets that were more worn than his mother would have ever approved of. Though his path had been clear while the Dark Lord was in power, as soon as the war ended he got a choice. Because his mother had lied about Harry Potter being dead, his family was spared any kind of real punishment for their actions. He was able to return to Hogwarts to finish his education and live his life as closely to normal as possible. That was the theory, of course. But things were not the same as they had always been. At school, he was tormented by those who still saw him as the enemy. In classes, his every action was analyzed to ensure he wasn't going to cause anyone harm. Even at home, his parents didn't look at him in the same way, with a hollowness in their eyes that betrayed the emptiness left in their soul that had never been there before the war. And with everything that his mother had told him during his last year at Hogwarts, he knew he no longer had a place in her home. For this reason, he decided that once he finished school, he would disappear. So one day, long after his parents had gone to bed, he grabbed whatever he could fit in one bag, and closed the Manor doors for the last time. If his parents ever tried to find him or contact him, he didn't know. He had disappeared, and that was exactly how he liked it.

Realizing there was no chance of getting back to sleep now, he decided with a sigh that he might as well get moving for the day. With a quick wave of his wand, he brightened the room to a dull glow. His head was pounding entirely too hard from the lack of sleep lately to handle the bright fluorescence of the all too harsh muggle light hanging from the ceiling. He couldn't help but wonder how people so ordinary had even managed to survive in the world. Throwing open the door of his room, he peered into the only other real room in the small apartment he had procured just north of downtown London. Despite his desire to get away, he couldn't convince himself to go too far away from the city he had loved visiting as a child. His apartment was small, to say the least. It had just enough room to fit a television on a stand with some drawers to hold various odds and ends, a small wooden coffee table he had taken to using for everything, a decent sized black felt couch big enough for three, and a couple of chairs that came close to matching. Off to the left was the kitchen. With a small fridge, two burners, a microwave, and a sink, it was a far cry from the elaborate kitchen his mother had insisted upon in his grandiose home despite never once cooking. But what he had as he looked around was really all he needed. Not that he could have afforded more.

After starting a pot of coffee, Draco opened the fridge to stare absentmindedly at eggs, a few slices of bread, old cheese, and muggle beer on the shelves. “Shit,” he thought to himself, shaking his head dejectedly. Though he had known full well upon opening the fridge how empty it would be, he had hoped that some magic would have filled it while he slept. Having not been able to take a house elf with him, things like cooking, cleaning, and shopping had become his responsibility. And he wasn't very good at it. But his stomach felt like it was gnawing at him, so he would have to make due with what he had and go to the store in Diagon Alley later. All these mundane tasks had been so incredibly foreign to him when he first arrived. He didn't know the first thing about finding a place to live or cooking a meal and spent most of his first few months at the Leaky Cauldron in a room with damp air that smelled mostly of dragon's breath. His meals were few and far between and he had spent entirely too much money on firewhisky and nettle wine. But that was nearly a year ago now. Eventually, he found an apartment in a wizarding community dotted with the occasional muggle. It was less than ideal, but Draco didn’t have the ability to be as pretentious in location choice as he normally would have been. and a job writing stories under the pseudonym Reginald Rybeck for a local tabloid-style paper that ran stories such as “Aliens: The New Wizards?” and “Godric Gryffindor Found Alive in Manchester Pub!” Though he wasn't proud of the distance from glory he had fallen, it paid 150 Galleons a week and ensured no one would ever find him.

But on cold October mornings such as this one, as the loneliness crept into the corners of his mind like a heavy fog, he wondered if that was what he really wanted. He was alone in this world. Aside from the occasional owl between himself and Pansy Parkinson, with whom he had become much closer after the war, he rarely saw or talked to anyone. Having to only go to work once a week to turn in his stories, and Diagon Alley a few times a month for food and supplies, most of his time was spent at home reading or watching the television set he had happened upon in a muggle store. Their idea of humor and entertainment was crude and unintelligent, to say the least, but he couldn’t help but be sucked into the monotony of it all when it was early and his dreams kept him awake. Normally it was enough, but on these lonely mornings, as he sipped his coffee and watched the sky turning a slightly brighter shade of grey, he realized how truly alone he really was.

After finishing up his admittedly pathetic excuse for a breakfast, he decided he might as well get ready for the day ahead of him. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was nearly 6:30. The Leaky Cauldron would be open in around 2 hours, and the rest of the shops shortly thereafter. Pulling himself into the bathroom, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. 'Fuck I look awful,' he said as he looked himself over. He had lost a lot of weight since moving here, and he had stopped taking as good of care of his skin and hair. Throughout school, his hair was generally slicked back, while now it fell in his eyes and had a dishwater color in the otherwise platinum locks. His porcelain skin had become ashy and sullen and the circles under his eyes became deeper and more sunken by the day. 'Look at you now, the great Draco Malfoy. Bet the girls are clamoring to be with you like this.' He couldn't help sighing audibly, realizing that this was why his bed had been lonely for so long.Hopping in the shower, he decided to try to clean himself up today. He took longer than usual scrubbing his skin and hair, and when he got out he tried to make himself look presentable. He let his now shiny hair fall across his forehead, and he stood up straight. After slipping into some dark jeans and an emerald green sweater, he realized he looked better. Though there was little he could do about his sleep strained eyes, he had a hint of the dignity and pride he used to carry himself with. He could almost pass for his old self, and after all, he didn't need people feeling sorry for him or knowing he was no longer well off. Deciding he looked good enough, he slipped on a black pea coat, and with a gentle pop, he was in front of the pub he briefly called home.

As he pushed opened the doors, he was greeted with the all too familiar smell of butterbeer, sherry, and corned beef wafting out from the back. He hated to admit it, but this place had become his home away from home as of late. It was too dingy for his family or friends, and if he sat in the back booth, not even the occasional old classmate would notice him.

“Good mornin’, Draco. Mighty early for you to be wandering on in. What can I get ya?” Tom asked from behind the bar, as he dried glasses with a rag Draco doubted was clean. Though he tried for total anonymity, when you stay somewhere for a while, people are bound to notice and remember you are there. But Tom was nice enough and always left him be. He never pried into his patron's private lives, which was something Draco highly prized right now.

“Oh, just the usual,” Draco responded casually. When he had first arrived he had made quite a fuss about being a prat to everyone and acting entitled, as if the world owed him something. Though Tom had never given him crap for it, he also never enabled it. But the longer Draco was away from his father, the less he felt the need to verbally assault everything with a pulse.

“Firewhiskey on the rocks it is then.” Taking a sip of his whiskey, he felt the burn trickle down the back of his throat. It was exactly that burn that he looked for, knowing it would help shake the cold of the morning air and the last memories of the shadow left over from last nights dreams. He knew it was a bit early in the morning to be drinking, but honestly, who was going to judge him? As he finished his first drink and ordered another, he heard a familiar voice entering the pub. He turned around and saw the last people he could have ever wanted to see.

“Harry, I just don't think we are going to find anything here. Hermione is so finicky about her jewelry and this is sort of an important decision, ya know?” Ron Weasley spoke slightly frantically as he hung his coat on a hook near the door. “I mean, I need to buy a ring to make the girl want to marry me, not a book to learn new spells. That would be an easy buy, just find the longest most boring sounding one they have. Can't do that with an engagement ring.”

Draco cursed to himself, not wanting to be noticed by these two, of all people. He slipped his hood on and sunk back into the shadows of his booth and waited as they sat at the bar and ordered two butterbeers. The last thing he needed was Weasel-bee and Potter to notice him, or worse, try to talk to him.

“Honestly Ron, I think you are being a bit dramatic. The ring isn't why she will say yes. It's you.” Potter said with an overly cheerful smile. Draco hated the way that, even after all that had happened to him, Harry managed to act like everything was fine and the world was made out of freaking sunshine. “Besides, they have some historic pieces in the new shop that just opened that I'm sure will strike her fancy. But hurry up and finish that beer, we don't need to be late for your mum's tea.”

“You’re right, Harry.” Ron hiccupped a bit as he downed the last of his drink. “I'm just a wreck over this. I just don't want her to say no.”

“Ron, you need to calm down.” This was the last thing Draco heard. Their voices trailed off as they exited the pub.

Just as he had hoped, he had managed to go unnoticed. Draco huffed to himself at the thought of the Weasel and the Mudblood getting married. 'Even those two losers can find happiness, and I will be forever alone' he thought to himself, feeling even more pathetic than he had this morning. But what else could he do? After putting down the payment for his tab and downing the last of his third drink around a half hour later, Draco decided it would probably be safe to venture into the Alley now. Heading out the back door, he cautiously tapped the brick to gain access to the part of the world muggles could never believe existed. Keeping his hood up, he glanced around to make sure he didn't see anyone important that could recognize him. When he decided it was safe he headed toward the bookstore. Seeing as he had finished all of his other books and he had a bit of extra money, he decided to treat himself. When he entered the shop, the small bell above his head tinged, announcing his arrival. He headed toward the hexes section before drifting to history, self-teaching books, Occlumency, and finally fiction. Finding an action novel with a werewolf on the cover, he settled on this and a book all about Salazar Slytherin that he hadn't read yet. A Galleon and a half later, he was back out the door.

But the second he stepped outside something didn't feel right. He couldn't place his finger on it, but it felt like someone was watching him. There was an energy in the air that was all at once familiar and terrifying. Pulling his hood a bit further down over his face, he slowly inched in the direction of the market, scanning every face he saw. With every passing second, Draco's heart beat faster. He could feel the anxiety swirling around his head. Then, just as he believed he was being overly paranoid, he spotted the woman that was giving him so much dread. Narcissa Malfoy, his mother.

His normal calm demeanor broke and he began to panic. She couldn't see him. He looked around trying to find an escape. Just to his left was a crowd that would easily draw attention to his location, behind him was the bookstore, which, to the best of his knowledge, had no other exit than that from which he came. As he slunk back into the shadows of the overhang, he knew he had mere moments to decide what to do. Then, just as he was sure he was too late, two hands shot out from the dark of an alley he hadn't noticed, one firmly over his mouth, pulling him back into the dark and preventing him from screaming. His attacker turned him around and shoved him hard into a wall. Reaching for his wand ready to fight, he looked up into the face of his apparent attacker and realized it was none other than his one-time rival. Harry Potter.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he watched his best friend frantically eye all of the rings in the display case of the recently-opened Merlin's Jewels, at the center of Diagon Alley. They had been circling the shop for nearly thirty minutes by this point, and seeing as it was a rather small shop, had seen everything at least four times. The worst part was this was now the third shop they had visited, and still, they had not left one with a ring. By now the kind, young witch who had been helping them had gotten bored and wandered into the back of the store, obviously assuming that they were incapable of making a choice. Harry laughed despite himself, enjoying the spectacle far more than his friend. “Ron, honestly mate, you have to choose one. She is going to love anything you get her.”

“Bloody hell Harry, it's hard, okay?” Ron exclaimed, running a hand through his already frazzled hair. “What if she realizes I’m not worthy of her. She’s so beautiful and smart and funny. What if she doesn’t want to marry me? I at least need to try to make sure the ring is perfect.” Ron circled back towards the first case again, looking at an assortment of what were called witch-cut diamond jewels. Ron muttered something about just calling them squares under his breath.

Harry rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of that statement. “Ron, she loves you! She wants to be with you. Hermione’s not the type to stay with someone out of pity. She’s been in love with you since at least our fourth year! You damn well know that.”

In truth, their feelings had been obvious ever since the night of the Yule ball. Ron had certainly buggered up everything with the way he rudely asked Hermione to the dance, assuming she had no date. This became increasingly apparent as she made her grand entrance. It had been like some sort of fairy tale to watch. Hermione swept around the corner at the top of the stairs and her dress curled around her ankles to catch up. She stood a moment to find her date, and in that moment Harry saw Ron's face change. Up until that moment, his best friends main priorities had been Quidditch, chocolate frogs, and wizard chess. Yet in that moment, and indeed it didn't last more than a moment, his face suddenly changed. The youthful sparkle of innocence was replaced by a burning flame that would only ever burn for her. The corners of his lips twitched slightly upwards without betraying his new passion to anyone who knew him less. Ron’s eyes had focused on her, and her alone. Though it was quite easy to see why. At that point, they had both only seen her as the overly cautious, insanely brainy, crazy-haired best friend who they had saved from a troll. But tonight, at the top of that stairwell, she looked like an entirely different person. Ron would later drunkenly describe her as an angel. Her normally frazzled hair was swept neatly off her shoulders, her beautiful blue dress a stark difference to her normally plain robes, and her smile shined so brightly that is lit the room as much as any enchantment. Harry couldn’t deny how stunning his friend was, but it was Ron who fell in love in that instant. But as quickly as the moment came, it slipped away.

When she spotted him she scowled, still hurt that Ron had treated her as less than a lady earlier that night; Ron then took up pretending not to stare at her for the duration of the evening. They had gotten into a screaming match over it by the end of the night. Though it was easy to miss behind their many fight’s and disagreements over the next years, Harry saw through it for what it really was. Behind each lecture from Hermione were eyes that saw Ron’s potential. Behind each rude comment from Ron stood a man afraid he would never be good enough for his one true love. The irony was, by the time they finally came clean, the only people that didn’t know they were in love with each other was them. Despite a few bumps in the road, no one was more thrilled than Harry when they finally got together during the war. And now, years later, Ron still hadn't realized that he was the only one she had ever loved.

“I just want it to be perfect for her. I just love her so much, and I don't want to spend any more time with her, not by my side… I want her to be my wife,” Ron said quietly, clearly embarrassed. Though they had been together for so long, Ron still wasn't used to talking to Harry about things like feelings.

“Don't worry, she will be.” Just as he was speaking, Harry got an odd tingle down up his spine that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Though he couldn't be sure what it was about, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen, and not something good. While it didn't feel as dire as when his scar would burn when Voldemort had been near, it definitely didn't feel like a good omen. “Hey Ron, you keep looking and I'll be back in a few. I'm going to go walk around a bit.” Ron shook his head slightly and muttered something under his breath about metals (or maybe he had said nettles? Harry couldn't be sure), clearly less than interested in what Harry was saying. As he went outside, the sensation seemed to be getting stronger. His intuition told him to push on to the right as if he was needed there or being drawn there. As his eyes scanned the crowd of multicolored robes, he saw a flash of white blonde hair ahead of him that could belong to none other than his childhood foe, Draco Malfoy.

It had been years since anyone had really heard from him. Admittedly, fate had been less than kind to him after the Dark Lord had fallen. In school, he got hexed almost daily, with people constantly calling him Death Eater and telling him he should be in Azkaban. Each time Harry witnessed it, his heart ached for the other boy. Flashes from his own childhood of bullying would flash before his eyes, and his insides would scream for him to say something. he saw himself reflected in the broken boy before him. No one should be made to feel as if they are nothing. But after years of name calling, hexes, threats, and violence against Harry and his friends, this felt like karma, so Harry never stepped in.  
After school had ended, the Malfoys had been freed but kept their heads down. On occasion, they would run into each other in a bookshop or while running other errands, but eventually, this stopped entirely. Harry hadn’t found his absence suspicious at the time; but seeing Malfoy now, there was a part of him that felt he should have given more thought to that. Especially since that damn prickling seemed to be leading Harry straight to him. Then, without warning, he saw Malfoy stop dead in his tracks.

It only took a moment for him to see Mrs. Malfoy on the other side of the road, and judging from the way Malfoy’s normally languid pose had gone completely stiff, it was clear he did not want to see her. Harry stood a moment longer, before slipping into a nearby alley. He watched Malfoy look around, looking for an exit. Why wasn't he noticing this alley? Something deep in Harry's gut told him that he had to help, so without another thought, he grabbed him around the waist and mouth and pulled him into the alley. It took a few seconds for Malfoy to register what had just happened, but as he did Harry watched his eyes go from fear to anger to shock to confusion. But Harry kept his grip on the blonde’s mouth so that he couldn't give away their position, and shoved him hard against the wall with all of his strength.

Draco's breath was hot against his hand, and the closeness made Harry feel more than a little uncomfortable. Once the look of shock left the Slytherin's eyes, Harry leaned in next to his ear and whispered, "Stay down, unless you want to get caught." Though his face appeared defiant, he gave a single harsh nod. Harry let go and went to peek around the corner. Narcissa was still there with the same severe look on her face Harry had seen many times before. Her stride had not broken nor had she slowed down her pace. He was sure that she hadn't spotted them, but he stayed hidden just to be sure. A few tense minutes later, he saw her platinum locks disappear into thin air. Once he was sure she was gone, he went back to Draco, who had pulled himself back together. It was only in that moment that Harry noticed his ashen skin and dark circles. He looked nothing like the arrogant boy who he had rivaled with through school. To Harry, he looked like a toy that had been broken long ago. "Are you alright?"

Malfoy pulled his shoulders unsteadily back before smirking. "I'm fine. Certainly didn't need help from you."

"Right," Harry scoffed. "That's why you looked like a scared puppy back there." Though he might not look the part anymore, he certainly still acted like the haughty prat he had always been. Harry was beginning to regret saving him. But he could see there was something off about Draco. The blondes normally haughty pose had sunk into a slouch, eyes glazed over and unfocused, and tone lacking its usual edge. After this long, there was no hiding behind a self-righteous mask anymore. Something was deeply wrong.

"I most certainly did not!" Draco exclaimed, pulling out his wand and pointing it in Harry's direction. "Now get out of my way before I blast your stupid fucking head apart."

The threat probably would have been much more convincing if Malfoy hadn't begun to visibly shake. Harry knew then that he was right; there was something very wrong with Draco. “Malfoy, you’re shaking. At least let me call a mediwitch for you.”

Draco’s wand wavered just slightly, and his eyes see-sawed between reluctant acceptance and stark defiance. Cautiously, Harry took a small step forward, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm. Not a moment later, Draco's shakes began to get more violent. His normally pale skin took on a ghostly pallor and his muscles began to lose their hold on his body. Then, without warning, his eyes lost their last grip on reality and he fell, unconscious, straight into Harry’s arms. Yes, there was most definitely something very wrong with Draco Malfoy, and it now seemed that it was going to be Harry’s job to save him.


	3. Chapter 3

_ He was running down a hallway that was faintly lit. He was terrified but knew he had to keep moving. The Dark Mark on his arm was throbbing incessantly, calling him immediately to the Dark Lord, and yet he kept running. Was he running away or toward something? Try as he might, his memory felt shrouded with fog. Then from up ahead came a piercing scream, one that reverberated through his head and made his blood run cold. He knew that scream all too well.The scream propelled him forward even faster, toward a door at the end of his vision. Immediately after he saw a flash of green light. No, he was going to be too late, he couldn't be too late. He had to save her. He reached out his hand and yelled out, as the image around him began to fade… _

 

Draco's eyes snapped open. Just another dream, it was just another dream. Though everything around him certainly still felt like a bad dream. His head was throbbing, the lights were too bright, and he heard a faint beeping coming from somewhere nearby that he couldn't quite place. Despite his best efforts, his memory seemed hazy and very much like a dream. There was most certainly no way that he had been in an alleyway, escaping his mother, and then been “saved” (if you could even call it that) by Harry bloody Potter. Yet he looked around and realized he had no idea where he was. As his eyes began to adjust, he attempted to piece together what was going on. He could tell he was on a couch, there was a fireplace in front of him, and the entire place smelled of dust. It was dark and the furnishings were quite outdated. This did not seem like the kind of place that was meant to feel like home, though he was certain there was a time it was quite grand. Even his tiny apartment felt more welcoming than this place. There was a machine that he recognized from Madam Pomfrey's wing at Hogwarts, though he had no idea what it did. It did seem to be where the infernal beeping was coming from, though. Normally Malfoy would have shot a quick curse at it to shut it up, yet when he reached for his wand it wasn't there.

 

Before he had a chance to panic about it , he heard voices from the hall. Most he could not make out, though the voice of his school age rival was clear and cut through him like a knife. 'Crap,’ he cursed to himself, 'it wasn't all a sodding dream.'

 

“Why on Earth would you bring him here?” A man's voice was heard saying, hushed but clearly agitated.

 

“Well, what was I supposed to do, leave him there to be discovered? Besides, you weren't supposed to be home for two weeks!” Harry sounded equally as annoyed.

 

“Calm down Remus, Harry was just doing what he thought was right. Can you honestly say you wouldn't have done the same for Severus in our youth?” A second man's voice was heard saying. His tone was pleading yet oddly authoritative. “They are looking for him, after all.”

 

“What concern is that of mine?” The man called Remus replied, decidedly less hushed than before.

 

“Quiet down, I don't want him to wake up.” Harry spat back.

 

“Because it's what Severus would have wanted.” At that their voices began to fade upwards, disappearing up the stairs, leaving a very confused Draco to ponder everything he had just overheard.

 

So someone was looking for him. Someone that Severus wouldn't have wanted to find him. And someone that Harry Potter, this unidentified man, and this Remus person also didn't want to find him. Remus was angry that Harry had brought Draco... wherever he was. A house perhaps? His brain still felt like it was in a haze as if he had been drinking too much mead. He sat up and shook his head, trying to dissipate the fog from the corners of his mind. He remembered needing to go shopping, drinking at the Leaky Cauldron, seeing his mother, being pulled into an alley, being pressed up against Potter (no that couldn't be right), then it was all black. What was happening to him? And how long had he been out? Through trying to work it all out, he became so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear a single pair of footfalls on the stairs, in the hallway, and making their way toward him.

 

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed in surprise, the unexpected sound jarring Draco out of his confused state and causing him to jump a bit. Despite his best efforts to overcome it, he was still relatively jumpy after the war. He supposed it would take time before he didn't see demons behind every corner and brace for death at every unforeseen sound. “I didn't realize you had woken up.”

 

“Of course not, that would require you to be observant Potter.” The blonde quipped, though even he realized it was missing its typical edge. Even Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“Shut up, Malfoy. How are you feeling?” He said, quickly giving the foreign instruments making the offensive beeping a once over, clearly more aware of what they were used for than Draco was. Thinking of that reminded him that he still had no idea where his wand was, much less where he was.

 

“Hey! Where the hell is my wand?” Draco shot off the couch he had been sitting on, brows furrowed in anger and accusation. In two strides he was across the room, inches from Harry's face. Though the gesture was meant to be intimidating, it made him a bit woozy, forcing him to sit on a nearby chair.

 

“Relax. You’ll get it soon enough. I didn't need you rolling over on it in your sleep and snapping it. Which I'm sure you would have seen as my fault.” Harry hit a few buttons on the machine and the beeping stopped. “Now, I believe I asked you how you were feeling.

 

Draco could feel the blood rushing behind his ears. He wanted his damn wand, but he could tell he was still far from ready to put up a fight. “Bloody perfect, never better. I'm sure the dizziness and blurry memory is just a side effect of how perfect I am doing. Now do you want to tell me who in the hell is after me and what I'm doing here?”

 

Harry looked taken aback, much to Draco's gratification. “You weren't supposed to hear that.” Harry's eyes narrowed, clearly not happy that he had been found out.

 

“Well, that much was obvious from the whispering. Now answer my damn questions.” He was rapidly losing patience.

 

“You first. Why were you scared of your mother?”

 

“It's none of your damn business is it?”

 

“Well considering that I saved your bloody life”

 

“I never wanted anyone to save me!” Draco heard his voice break. This was the last thing he wanted to say to the likes of Potter. He had worked so hard throughout his life to keep his mask in place: voice even, plastered on sneer, and no weakness. He was meant to be perfect. He was meant to be strong. He was a Malfoy, though since leaving home it felt like he was only one by blood. But did that really mean anything anymore? Since abandoning his home, his belongings, his upbringing, was he really the proud owner of that name and everything it entailed? No, he was not that man, or really that boy, any longer. Despite that, though, he couldn't let the Golden Boy, with his perfect friends, his perfect job, his perfect girlfriend, and his perfect life see him break. Besides, the last time he saw him like this, it nearly killed him.

 

It was sixth year, mere months before the end of term, and he was charged with killing Dumbledore lest his family be murdered. Now, he was a brave man to be sure, but this sent a chill of fear through him. They may not have been much, but they were all he had. Yet try as he may, he couldn't go through with it. Through the stress of his assigned task, he had found a truly surprising friend and confidant in Moaning Myrtle. She was always there to listen to him, she never judged him for what he was going through or doing, and talking to her was the only time he could let go. One day when it had all become too much, he found himself again in the bathroom confiding in her. When he looked in the mirror, looking at eyes almost as dark and cheeks almost as sunken and hollow, he didn't even recognize his own reflection. He only saw the monster that had been turning him into. In that moment, he broke down in tears. That was when Harry walked in. He didn't even think to regain his composure before firing a spell off. For the next few minutes, it was just a backward barrage of spells until a spell that he didn't recognize hit him clear in the chest . Part of him hoped it would kill him so he could be rid of the task at hand, yet mostly he was just angry. Angry Potter had bested him, angry he was in this situation at all, and mostly angry he had seen him vulnerable. Malfoy's are never vulnerable.

 

That was why Harry absolutely could not see that again. So he straightened up, brushed it off, and sneered. “Malfoy's don't need saving.”

 

The Gryffindor swallowed hard, clearly biting back whatever insult was about to leave his lips. He was never easy to goad into a fight, and this was the one time Draco didn't feel like trying. “Okay, Malfoy. I won't save you. But you should know—” Harry's eyes lifted to meet his, with a look in them he couldn't quite place (though it was the first time he noticed how brilliantly green his eyes were), “—you may have just found your way into a place that you find you need saving from.”

 

With that, Harry reached into a nearby drawer of some built in cabinets around the fireplace and produced Draco's wand. It never occurred to him they would be keeping it in the room with him. Harry reached out his arm, but did not move, clearly intending for Draco to come get it from him. For a moment Draco ran his left hand through his now tousled locks, trying to choose the path most likely to get him what he wanted. He still had questions that no one else could answer but this man standing right in front of him, offering him a way out with no further expectations. So Draco did the most logical thing he could think of. He sat down. “Alright Potter, if you have answers spill them. What happened to me yesterday? Who's watching me and what do they want?”

 

Harry looked confused. “What do you mean what happened yesterday?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed audibly. For someone so renowned is the wizarding world he could be quite daft. “In the alleyway? When you sav— I mean, pulled me away from my mother? When I passed out?”

 

Harry stood very still then, which worried Draco immensely. “Malfoy,” Harry started, much softer and quieter than before, “that wasn't yesterday. It's September 23. That was nine days ago.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was surprised by how heavy Malfoy felt falling into his arms. It didn't help that he fell into them with all of his weight. Catching him was instinct. As much as he wanted his nemesis to fall and knock himself into a coma, the good in him just couldn't allow himself to. So here he was, in the most awkward moment he could imagine, holding up a very unconscious Malfoy with no idea what to do. Harry looked around, and tried to think. He had to get them somewhere safe, away from the possibility of prying eyes. Somewhere people weren't liable to find them. Somewhere... then it hit him! Why hadn't he thought of it before? He quickly scanned his surroundings to make sure they weren't followed and tightened his grip around the other boy. He then popped them to the safest place he knew. 12 Grimmauld Place.

With a pop, they went from the cold alleyway to the front steps of the once-great home of the Black family. With a few disgruntled groans, Harry managed to heave the other boy over his shoulder and trudge up to the door. A quick wave of his wand and the door was open. Making his way into the drawing room, he smiled as he noticed that the fire was already lit. This would be good for them both to thaw their cold bones. With a small bit of maneuvering, he managed to get Draco onto the couch. Once situated, though, Harry realized he had no idea what to do next and it was beginning to make him panic. The last thing he needed was Malfoy to die on him. He may hate the guy but he was getting tired of having other people’s blood on his hands. Besides, Draco did save his life once upon a time.

As Harry paced the floor, he continued glancing over at the boy who, at one time made his hell. What had led them here? An hour ago he had been helping his best friend pick out a ring for his soon-to-be fiancée and now he was watching the color drain out of the face of his school time rival. As he contemplated what to do, he heard a crack from outside followed by footsteps coming up the stairs. All he hoped was that his godfather was in an understanding mood today.

As Sirius walked into the room, Harry’s chest immediately tightened as his stomach dropped to his feet. Sirius looked confused, though thankfully not angry, as he looked from the boy on the couch to Harry and back. “What happened?”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He was so grateful for his godfather. Sirius was always a reasonable man and had a definitive soft spot for Harry. He was always willing to listen without judgment to his side of things and do so with patience and understanding. Speaking with his godfather now helped release much of the tension he hadn’t realized has settled in his spine. He and Sirius and an unmistakable bond, which was the one good thing he had gained during the war. In the Department of Mysteries Sirius was dueling with his psychotic cousin and nefarious Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange. During their fight, she launched a killing curse right for him, but Sirius wasn’t paying attention. As fate would have it, he was busy darting the other direction to knock his best friend, Remus Lupin, out of the way of a Cruciatus Curse. Harry’s stomach had dropped as he saw the curse fly within centimeters of his Sirius’ head, singeing his hair as it flew by and disappeared behind the shimmering curtain of a machine whose origins Harry never learned.Coming that close to losing the closest thing to family Harry had ever known shook him to the core, and the realization brought them closer than ever. Though it was not just them that grew closer. After that day, Sirius and Remus had a new bond in their friendship. Sirius frequently told Lupin how he had saved his life, though the werewolf refused to accept it, saying he had done nothing other than being in trouble himself. Since then the men had been nearly inseparable.

And it was this special bond Harry shared with Sirius that he had counted on today. “It's Malfoy. I think he's dying.”

The next few hours were a blur. Sirius immediately did some simple spells over Malfoy's unconscious figure, then told Harry to send for a Healer. Within minutes there was a pop outside followed by the rush of robes as a Healer Harry didn't know went over and conjured a machine from a swirl of multicolored streaks of light and shooed Harry and Sirius out of the room and into the kitchen down the hall. Both Harry and Sirius were restless, with Harry pacing the floor and occasionally peeking his head in the room and Sirius keeping busy by rearranging the jars of newts eyes and wolfsbane and the like on his pantry shelves.

Finally, as the sun was beginning to fade, the healer called them both into the drawing room, which by this point looked more like a hospital wing.

“Firstly, I feel it is only proper if I introduce myself. My name is Jace Finnigan.” His voice had a thick Irish accent and sounded quite pointed. It was the first time that Harry noticed the doctor had sandy brown hair, was rather tall, and could not have been more than two years older than Harry. As the doctor greeted them, Harry noticed that he did not hold out his hand before he continued,“Mr. Malfoy here is very sick. I have a monitor near the couch he is lying on. Please do not move it or him. It will be reporting right back to me until he awakes. There are 3 numbers on it. The number in red tells his current heart rate, the number in purple is his rate of healing, and the number in green is how much poison is left in his system.”

“Poison?” Harry sputtered. Had Draco been poisoned?

“Oh yes,” Jace said, rather nonchalantly, considering the circumstances. “I suppose I am getting a bit ahead of myself, aren't I? When I did my check, he was barely breathing and his temperature was dropping rapidly. I initially checked him for scrofungulus, dragon pox, and a number of other maladies but saw no sign. Lucky for Mr. Malfoy though, I happen to have been trained during the war, so those in my class were trained to look not only for magical answers but also for man-made concoctions meant to harm. As it were, this is exactly the case here.”

“Are you saying that someone is trying to kill this boy?” Until he spoke, Harry nearly forgot that Sirius was in the room. When Harry finally looked over, Sirius’ brow was deeply furrowed and his lips were turned down, which worried Harry more than he would have expected.

“I'm saying that, unless Draco here is a very advanced potions master with experience crossing Muggle poison and magical ones trying to commit suicide, then you definitely have a case of attempted murder on your hands,” the young healer stated. “This is someone of the most advanced potion work I have ever seen. I have always considered myself a bit of an expert when it comes to magical potions and poisons, and even I almost missed it. To be honest, had you waited another day or so, there is nothing even I could have done to save him.”

Harry was in shock. Why would someone want to kill him? How did someone even find him? Once again today, he found himself pacing the floor while Sirius and Jace spoke over Malfoy's care. As far as he knew, and he doubted his information was wrong, Draco had all but disappeared. Around two years ago, Lucius Malfoy had got caught up in some more wrongdoings and had gotten himself taken back to Azkaban This caused Narcissa Malfoy to move in with a friend, essentially abandoning Malfoy Manor. Yet even with all of this going on, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen or heard. Harry looked over at the blonde. This was probably the one and only time he would see him so peaceful, and laying like this, looking so broken, it was almost hard to believe all of the terrible things he had done.

As he thought this, he heard Healer Finnegan bid Sirius good day and take his leave. Harry found he was not all that fond of him, but at least he had saved Draco's life. He looked up at Sirius, who motioned for Harry to follow him into the kitchen to talk.

“Harry, what exactly is going on here? Why is there a poisoned Malfoy on my couch?” Sirius had a tone of sternness but not accusation. “What happened?”

“Well...” Harry smoothed a hand through his messy black hair, trying to decide where to start. He quickly gave Sirius an overview of the last few hours, careful to not leave anything out. “It was strange. You know how I used to get those weird sensations in my scar to alert me of danger? Well, this was like a gentle pull on my spine. It was like I was supposed to go find Malfoy. And when he passed out I couldn't just leave him there to be found or killed. I had to get him somewhere safe, and this is the safest place I know.” He finished his statement with a small shrug, struggling to look Sirius in the eye.

Sirius sat patiently through the entire story, barely moving an inch except to grab some tea. Harry had trouble gauging how his godfather was taking the entire thing. After a few moments of contemplation, Sirius spoke. “So, you were drawn to Malfoy here, he seemed afraid of his mother, and he passed out. Now we come to find out he had been poisoned. It's all very suspicious. Perhaps I should write Remus, he's out of town for the next couple of weeks you know.” Sirius seemed lost in his own thoughts, not really looking at anything.

“Sirius, I know it all seems off but this worries me. Someone after Draco like this. I feel like it’s just the beginning of something, and I’m somehow supposed to be involved in it.” Harry felt the familiar warm tingle down his back pulling him to the boy lying on the couch in the other room. Something was connecting them, whether he liked it or not.

“I think I agree with you, Harry. There have been some... whispers amongst the Order. Talk of an uprising. I don’t think the Ministry is taking it very seriously.” Sirius said softly, almost as if he was afraid someone was going to overhear him. “I've even been writing it off as nothing but this event is curious. Why would someone be targeting him, of all people? He hasn't even been on the radar for at least three years, as far as I know.” Sirius grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and penned a quick owl. Harry was sure it was to some member of the Order. “I do have to ask, though, why was this such a concern of yours? I know you say you couldn't just leave him but I was under the impression that you hated the boy. Was I wrong?” With this, Sirius’ eyebrow quirked up, and his tone was one Harry didn’t recognize.

Harry wasn't sure what the older man's was implying, but he could tell he didn't like it. “I don't like him! I never have! He made me and my friend's life hell all through school and never cared about anyone but himself.” He realized he probably sounded childish, getting so defensive, when the truth was he wasn't even sure why he rescued his childhood rival. “Rescuing him was the right thing to do.”

Sirius let out a loud laugh and patted Harry on the shoulder. “Relax! It doesn't matter. You did the right thing, whatever your motivation. It's not like I accused you of being in love with the bloke.”

Harry’s face flushed. “Shouldn't we get back to the real issue at hand? There's someone out there trying to kill people again. I can feel it. This is bad.”

“Right you are Harry.” Sirius' voice instantly snapped back to a more deliberate tone. “Alright, well—I don't know much. I know there have been some names thrown around of people who may be involved, the usual suspects, but no concrete evidence. The only thing I know for sure is that they are being called The Dark Collective. To be honest, until now, it sounded kind of silly to me.”

At this, all of the color drained out of Harry's face. He hadn’t wanted to believe it was true. So it was them. The new war had begun.

 

* * *

  
“Nine days!” Malfoy bellowed. Harry tensed at the sound. “You have to be bloody joking, I can't have been out for that long. This is all some ruse, right Potter?” Draco spat his name like it was a foul taste in his mouth.

“I'm not joking Malfoy! Why the hell would I joke about something like this? Something bad is happening, and it directly affects you.” Harry was reluctant to tell him everything, though he knew he should. Malfoy wasn't particularly reasonable on his best days. But he really had no choice. “You're safe here and I really think you should stay until-”

“Stay! With you! I'd rather stay in Azkaban!” Malfoy interrupted, loudly.

“Please, you’re in danger out there. It's not safe. There are things going on that you don't know, things that even we are struggling to explain!”

“Then tell me, Saint Potter,” his voice dripped with resentment, “what exactly is it that you can do for me that I can't do for myself? I'm twice the wizard you will ever be!”

“That is so not the point, you’re safe here! If you leave we can't protect you!”

“And why the hell do you even care what happens to me?”

This was the second time today that he had been asked that question and to be honest he didn't really have a good answer. So, he lied. “Because it's my fucking job!”

“Great. Just great, Potter. Well, since my well-being isn't exactly a priority of the Ministry I think I’ll take my leave now.” Malfoy dipped into a small sarcastic bow and turned around to leave.

“Someone tried to kill you!” At this Malfoy stopped walking and stood up, completely stiff. Silence immediately overtook the room, where neither man so much as breathed. Though it was only a few seconds, the tension made it feel like hours. When he turned around, Harry saw that his face was even whiter than it usually was. Seeing that he wasn't going to talk, Harry continued. “They're called The Dark Collective and that’s practically all I know about them.” He looked down a moment to wait for Draco to respond, but all the other did be sit down on a nearby chair.

“The reason you’ve been here, unconscious for over a week is, we believe, that they tried to have you killed." Harry paused and took a deep breath before he met Malfoy's cold, grey eyes. "Draco, you were poisoned.”


	5. Chapter 5

_He was somewhere familiar, though he could not place exactly where. It had high ceilings, large windows with the shades drawn shut, and everything was rather dark from the furniture to the paint. It felt cold, the kind of chill that went to his bones. Though he wasn't sure why, he felt anxiety deep in his core. Something was wrong, there was something he should be doing. What should he be doing? It was then that he heard her scream. That was what he needed to be doing, he needed to save her. Everything snapped into place around him. His mother and father were there, looking much worse for wear, his mother weeping. He began to run down the hall opposite the drawing room of his old home . He ran as fast as his legs would take him. The hall appeared to stretch on forever into darkness, and the screams seemed to get louder and more blood curdling as time went on. He had to save her. Just then his Dark Mark began to burn, beckoning him to the Dark Lord. He knew he was supposed to go, but he was almost there. He could save her. Then, as if in slow motion, he saw the hallway light up green from the cracks beneath the door in front of him, telling him he was too late. Just a breath later he reached the door, wand in hand, and threw it open..._

Draco woke screaming, covered in sweat, and immediately began to sob. It was enough that he kept dreaming of the people he had hurt, people around him dying, the terrible things he had done. But now he couldn't shake the dreams of her. He looked around and realized he was still on the couch in the decrepit old home, and thought back to last night.

The last clear memory he had was arguing with Harry Potter and being told someone, or someones, wanted him dead and had poisoned him. At that word he felt all the pain, all the confusion, all the rage drain out of his body and he couldn't move. He was sitting, though he wasn't entirely sure how he got that way. He had been determined to leave. Screw that he didn't have his wand, he had enough saved to get a new one. Screw that he was sick and probably couldn't really use magic, much less figure out where he was so that he could get home. All he knew was that he had to escape. But knowing what he knew now, he realized that wasn't an option. Despite his wishes, if someone was trying to kill him, the pathetic inhabitants of this home were probably the best hope he had to figure out who and why. So he had stayed, and settled in for an uneasy night sleep, despite being told by Potter that he could sleep in a bedroom. This was not the time to let down his guard, and heaven forbid they know he was yielding to what they wanted from him.

After getting himself back under control, he realized it must be rather late. He could not remember the last time he ate something, so he decided to go looking for the kitchen. The house was quite dark, with virtually no light flooding in from the outside. Draco had gotten so used to the bright lights of the city neighborhood his apartment was in, that it seemed strange to actually have dark at night. So he pulled out the wand that Harry had finally given him back and cast some dim light at his feet to see where he was walking. He quietly checked a few closets, but to no avail. The first was a water closet he hadn't known was there and the second was no more than a coat closet. He descended the stairs at the end of the hall and found himself in another large hall. He sighed internally, cursing himself for not asking where things were in this bloody house.

As he rounded a corner, he saw a bit of light coming from underneath a small door at the end of the hall. Draco stepped cautiously forward and turned the handle slowly. As he did he heard hushed voices from the bottom of another set of narrow stairs and smelled what had to have been Yorkshire pudding. It made his stomach cramp with hunger. Normally he would have been cautious and listened in on whatever was going on downstairs, but right now he couldn't be bothered.

He descended the stairs quickly and was greeted with a warm room that served as both the kitchen and dining area. There was a large table down the middle of the room with many chairs around it, a fireplace along the back wall surrounded by stonework, and a small kitchen area off to the right. It was there that a man stood who looked familiar to Draco, but he couldn't quite place from where. He had long black hair, pale skin, and an elegance in the way he stood that mirrored the way Draco often thought of himself. He was speaking with a portrait of a woman in the corner, but both stopped and turned as soon as he walked into the room. When he turned, Draco saw that this man had the same steely grey eyes as his own. It was then that he realized that this must be his cousin, Sirius Black.

Sirius gave him a small smile before he spoke. “Ah Mr. Malfoy, we meet at last. Come have a seat.” He requested, dispassionately.

Draco was wary of the invitation, but a quick glance toward the kitchen made him remember the delicious smell of the Yorkshire pudding that had led him down here in the first place. His stomach growled loudly, making him grip his stomach subconsciously.

“You clearly haven’t eaten. Kreacher!” At this, an old house elf came out of a small door in the wall that Draco hadn't noticed before now. “Get our guest some pudding. And perhaps some mead.” The house elf trudged wearily into the room, eyes glued deliberately on the floor and muttering obscenities to himself. The entire situation made Draco’s skin crawl. He greatly wanted to just go back upstairs and not talk to his long-forgotten cousin, but knew that if he did not then he would never eat. So he slowly made his way over to one of the many chairs and sat as his food was brought to him along with his drink. As he began to eat, Sirius came and sat across from him, eying him uncertainly. They sat in silence for a few minutes before he began to speak.

“So, Mr. Malfoy, it certainly is unexpected to have you as a guest, or I guess as a patient would be more accurate, here in my family home. What do you know about why you are here?” Sirius asked, with a tone that seemed all at once speculative and accusatory.

Draco took a long sip of his mead before answering. They may be helping him, but no one dictated when Draco Malfoy did anything. “I know very little. I know that I was poisoned, I know that Potter saved me, and I know that they’re called the Dark Collective. I have no idea why they poisoned me, who they are, what they want, or how I was even found. Maybe you could help me with that.” Draco knew the last part was unfair. These people had no reason to trust him and even less reason to care if he lived, and yet here he was, drinking mead and miraculously alive.

“Yes, that's precisely right. It is a curious thing, though, why someone would want to kill you. To the best of my knowledge, you have been underground for a while. You don’t seem like someone who would get targeted by a group of people with evil intentions. I’m not sure if anyone would even notice you were gone.” Sirius commented.

“I prefer to live life out of the public eye after spending so much time in the spotlight. It's refreshing,” Draco replied sardonically.

“Well, judging from the look of you, you have achieved that end quite nicely. You certainly don’t look the part of the Malfoy Heir nowadays. Regardless, you are here now and I figure both of us want some answers.”

Draco allowed himself to bite his tongue, though he was quite sure that comment had been a jab about his appearance. Losing his temper would not earn him the answers he sought. Despite a growing list of snarky retorts in his head, he remained quiet. Sirius seemed to notice and gave a small smirk, but gratefully said nothing of it, and instead got back to the matter at hand. “Well, I'm going to assume you’d like to know what knowledge I have of this group. All I know is there have been whispers, gossip, of a new uprising. These aren't like the Death Eaters you’re used to, though, no. They don’t seem to answer to any particular group. Pureblood, half blood, Muggle-born. They don't seem to care. From what little we’ve seen, they seem to want anyone who’s willing to follow them.”

The sound of this was eerily familiar to Draco, like something he had heard in a dream or a memory from some time before. “So what do they want with me, what could I possibly have to do with this?”

Sirius got up and began to pace in front of the fireplace, lost in thought. “I wish I knew. You seem an unimportant target. I mean, I'm sure you've done quite a bit to anger plenty of people, but to spend this long trying to find you...” He trailed off, clearly unsure what to think.

“So now what? I wait like a sitting duck until they try to kill me again? Fucking fantastic.” Draco was frustrated, this whole thing was ridiculous and not getting him any closer to getting home. “Don't you know anything useful about them? Has no one tried to claim themselves as the leader? How do they even find new followers?”

“You would be surprised how easy it is to find like-minded people to follow you if you’re desperate enough. But no, there is no known leader. Anonymity seems to be important to this group.”

Draco thought that was true enough. There were enough foul people in the world, but normally someone wanted the glory. If what Sirius said was true, then this group’s intentions could be far more sinister than anything he had been dealing with before. But before he could give it much thought, he heard the door at the top of the stairs swing open and the sound of footfalls. Draco stood, wand at the ready inside his sleeve, mostly out of instinct. Yet as the feet descended the stairs he felt foolish. It was only a half asleep looking Potter, hair even more unkempt than usual and in only pajamas, slung a touch too low to be walking around. It made Draco uncomfortable and he couldn't help roll his eyes as he sat back down.

It seemed to take a moment for Harry to realize what was going on in front of him, and when he did he stopped dead in his tracks. “What the hell did I miss?” His tone was casual but his eyes had narrowed in suspicion. Draco just rolled his eyes again. Harry never was much the type for educated observation.

“Well,” Draco drawled, “I believe it's two adults having a conversation. Might as well scamper back to your room Harry. You wouldn’t understand”

The half dressed boy visibly bristled in shock at hearing his own name, which was exactly what Draco had been going for, but recovered quickly. “ Shove it, Draco,” Harry replied, sending Draco’s first name right back. The effect was unsettling.

“Honestly, I can't listen to the two of you argue anymore.” Sirius chimed in, causing both boys to look up, though they did shut up. Draco needed too many answers to burn this bridge this quickly. No, he would have to be more careful if he intended to get what he wanted, and Malfoys always got what they wanted. Harry just had this way of getting under his skin. It was infuriating “Now, I believe we were discussing the specifics of your predicament.”

“Yes, we were,” Draco replied coolly. “I think I may have an idea what you are talking about.” All this talk of underground societies and sordid affairs reminded Draco of a conversation he had with his mother not long after he finished school. He wasn't sure he wanted to share it with Potter and Sirius, but sometimes you have to give an inch to get a mile. “I may have overheard something... relevant.”

_It was a beautiful June day at the manor, and Draco couldn't help but be happy, despite the year he had just been forced to suffer through. Going to his last year at Hogwarts had been the hardest thing he had ever done. The Dark Lord being gone and his family being so closely associated with him had certainly left a sour taste in most of the students’ mouths. Those that had believed in the Dark Lord’s mission had seen him as a coward, those on Potter's side of the war saw him as the enemy, and everyone else didn't want their neutral status called into question for hanging around him. As a result, he had spent most of his free time alone. In fact, aside from Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, Draco had rarely said more than three words to the rest of the student body. For the first time in his entire life, being a Malfoy didn't offer him any protection or good favor. In fact, it seemed to only bring animosity and more than a few hexes._

_Thankfully, his time as that sodding school was over. He could finally move on with his life and try to figure out who the fuck he was supposed to be now. And it was exactly this he contemplated as he took a leisurely stroll through one of the Manor's many gardens. As he strolled, he gingerly touched the edges of an enchanted purple rose whose petals shimmered silver, reflecting the beautiful sunlight of the day. These roses were his favorite part of the entire Manor. It amazed him that his property had such beauty on it, while the Manor itself felt so cold and impersonal. This was one of the many things Draco intended to change one day when he took possession of this home. No more dark and dreary for him. He had had enough of that in the last three years to last a lifetime._

_As he wandered back inside, he heard faint voices coming from the formal drawing room, and found himself pulled forward. He couldn't understand much, but clearly knew he was not supposed to hear this conversation. He heard things like “dark something” and “his duty.” Draco couldn't make sense of it all. With the Dark Lord gone, how could these meetings still be necessary? Just as he began thinking about it, he heard steps coming toward the door and quickly moved away, pressing himself deep into the shadows. Peering out from his hiding spot, he noticed two men exiting the room. One was a tall man with shoulder-length black hair, a tattered brown leather coat, and boots that looked to be made out of dragon skin. His skin was ashy and decorated with scars, including one that sliced straight across his cheek. Despite the scars, his air reminded Draco of his father’s. The man was clearly important and aware of it. The difference was that this man seemed much more dangerous than his Father. The second man was short, had bright red hair, a thick beard, and small green eyes. His robes appeared expensive, but were quite over worn. His face was plastered with a sneer which seemed rather out of place. Both men did not seem like people his parents would associate with. What were these men doing in the house?_

_“As always, Narcissa,” the taller man said, bowing slightly and taking her hand to kiss it, “it has been quite the pleasure. You as well, Lucius. I'm sure we will be seeing you soon._

_“Yes, I believe you shall.” The tone Lucius responded with was more than a little sinister. But with that simple comment, both men turned and walked out of his home._

_“Narcissa, please keep me informed if there are any further developments on the project. I will be taking dinner alone in my study tonight.” And with that, his father walked out of the room and up the stairs, not even bothering to wait for a response._

_Waiting until his father’s footfalls were far away, Draco came back into view, and followed his mother back into the room they had all just left. He found his mother cleaning up a dark stain he couldn't identify, which seemed odd because he couldn't remember ever seeing his mother clean. As he got to the door, he leaned against the frame for a moment, before announcing his presence._

_“Isn't that what we have house elves for, Mother?”_

_Narcissa jumped a bit, before smoothing the skirt of her dress down and turning, face not showing any sign of having been startled. “Draco, I didn't realize you had come back from the gardens. I was just keeping busy with this stain, my magic doesn't seem to want to clean it.” Her voice seemed unsteady, as if she were forcing herself to remain cold._

_“Clearly, Mother,” Draco replied, sauntering toward her. “Who were those people you and Father were speaking with?_

_“They were no one to concern yourself with yet.” Her normal air of sophistication had returned, as she conjured a rug to cover the stain. Draco couldn't help but wonder what kind of stains can't be cleaned with a simple spell._

_“They seemed dangerous. What are you getting our family into now?” Draco didn't mean for it to come out as accusatory as it had, but he did not like how any of this felt. Yet despite his tone, it seemed that he had struck the right chord with his mother._

_“Your Father does not wish me to discuss this with you yet. He says you aren't ready. I think he's wrong and this is the perfect time to tell you,” she said softly, more to herself than to Draco, while pacing the room. Then, just as quickly as she had started pacing, she stopped right in front of him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “This could be an opportunity for our family to regain what it has lost. There is a new group trying to gain power Draco, an uprising. Those men, they know all about it. They want to help us. They want us to join them and-”_

_He cut her off before she could continue, voice rising more octaves than he intended. “Do you have any idea the hell I went through this year? The number of times I wanted to give up and come home? I never wanted to be a part of your war!”_

_Narcissa stood back, visibly upset. “Don't you know I’ve only ever wanted the best for you?” Her voice was quiet but sounded much colder than the words she was saying._

_Draco's eyes narrowed, his fury threatening to overtake him, “I will never go back to the life this family forced me to endure since I was born. I want nothing to do with this uprising. You don't care about me, you care about power. You are on your own.” He spat these words at his mother._

_Narcissa remained surprisingly calm as she looked at him with cold, unfeeling eyes, “You will regret this decision Draco, I promise you that.”_

Harry and Sirius stared at Draco with a look somewhere between disbelief and shock on both of their faces as he finished telling the story. It was a moment or two before either man made any sound, and Draco wasn't about to break the tension. It was no surprise when Harry was the first to speak. “Is that why you were hiding from your mom?”

“Brilliant deduction Potter. And to think you didn't even need Granger to come up with that one for you.” Sometimes he could not figure out how this boy could get his shoes on each day, much less save the entire world. Harry ignored the obviously pointed jab, though.

“Malfoy, it's not safe out there. I think you should stay here until we figure out what's going on. No one will be able to find you here.” Harry sounded truly worried, but Draco was still unsure. It was in his nature to protect himself at any cost, but his pride could not concede to staying here with them.

“I agree with Harry,” Sirius piped in. Draco had nearly forgotten the other man was there, he had been so quiet. “None of us know enough about what's going on to make a decision about this. This home isn't traceable, and even if it were there are powerful wards on it that only allow access to a very select few. You will be safe here.”

Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes. Harry Potter, ever the Gryffindor, always trying to save anyone he saw in need. Even his enemies. It was going to get him killed one day. Yet he had to admit, the last thing that he needed was to try to go home and get himself killed. Though he would never admit it, he was scared. It had been a while since his life was in danger, and he was not fond of revisiting the feeling. But did he trust his life in the hands of a half-blood and a blood traitor?

Just as he was considering staying, he heard Harry's voice shaking him out of his obviously delusional state. “You know Draco, you could always switch and be on the good side this time.”

At that, Draco snapped. It had been too much these last few days and he was done. “The light side? I'm not a bloody wanker. I'm not some noble Gryffindor. I don't care about your stupid uprising and I don't care about being good.”

“But don't you care about your own fucking life Malfoy? Don't you want to survive? Isn't that supposed to matter to you as a stupid Slytherin?” Harry yelled, having gotten his feathers ruffled, much to Draco's pleasure.

Draco lowered his voice dangerously as he replied, “Of course, but not under your watch. Take me home. Now. I'm done breathing the same air as you.” And with that he swept himself upstairs to pack his things, missing the look of concern his temporary hosts shot each other.

An hour later, Draco had all of his things and Harry was preparing to Apparate them both back to his apartment, because Draco's magic was still too weak. There had hardly been a word spoken since their argument in the kitchen. As he and Harry went outside, Draco saw the sun beginning to peak over the hills in the distance, turning the sky a kaleidoscope of pinks, oranges, and blues. It was a beautiful morning, but he was truly getting sick of seeing this hour.

“You know,” Harry's soft voice interrupted the peace of the moment, “it's not too late to change your mind.”

Draco shot him a glare. “Take me home, Golden Boy.” It was bad enough that Potter was trying to turn him into the hero, but it was worse that he couldn't even use his own magic to get away from here. Luckily, though, Harry only gave a small nod in response and didn't try to fight him. Then with a gentle pop, they were outside Draco's door. As he ripped his arm away from Harry, he heard an audible sigh.

“Good luck Draco,” Harry replied, so quiet Draco almost missed it. Another pop and the air was eerily silent. He was alone.

He opened his door and went inside. Everything was the same as when he left, as if this whole thing had been a bad dream. Plopping down on his couch, he ran his fingers through his hair. Everything felt the same, but at the same time, everything was different. Someone wanted him dead, and it may have something to do with what he heard from his mother. Harry Potter and Sirius Black had saved his life. His column was due in a week. He was still alone but now felt like he was being watched. And he had no idea what he was going to do. Looking at the floor, he pinched the bridge of his nose feeling a migraine coming on. What was he going to do? His eyes began to slip closed and he could feel his consciousness beginning to wane. Just as he was about to drift off into what would undoubtedly be a restless sleep, he woke with a feeling of dread. Though not sure how, he knew something was coming, and he doubted it was good. A moment later, the stark silence of the room was interrupted by the sound of three sharp knocks on his door.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry sighed out loud as he apparated into a park in the middle of London. After the disaster area that had been the last two days, he needed some time to think and wasn't quite ready to go home or to Grimmauld Place yet. He made sure to apparate to an area he knew was infrequently traveled by Muggles with the hope that it would be empty. It was still very early, and a rather brisk autumn morning, so Harry's suspicions were right. With all the arguing and name-calling and drama, he needed a good time away from everyone.

How could Draco be so careless? There were people trying to kill him, and though they were certainly not friends, he should have been grateful for a safe place to stay until they could figure out who was trying to kill him. It just pissed Harry off. As much of a prat as Malfoy was, he had never known him to be an idiot. Harry kicked a rock, and watched it hit a tree, scaring a flock of jays into the air. Harry had put his own life at risk saving him, and hadn't even gotten a thank you. He sighed loudly as he kept on down the path, desperately trying to rid his mind of the bloody git. Serves him right, anyways. If he wasn't going to look out for himself, then Harry certainly wasn't going to waste the energy trying to save him. He rolled his eyes as he sighed once more. Who was he kidding? He was still going to try to find a way to save the prat, because that was his nature.

Harry shivered as he felt the chill in the air. But despite the cold, he loved this weather. Days like this always made him miss Hogwarts. There was a slight breeze rustling through the red, orange, and brown leaves above him with a fine mist curling along the ground. The sky was a bit grey and the air felt wet with dew, but he could tell it would be sunny before 10am. This was Quidditch weather. Five years ago he and Ron would have been out of bed by now, having scarfed down some coffee, toast and bacon, and been out on the Quidditch pitch. They would have never passed up a day like this.

Thinking about that made him stop dead in his tracks. Ron. He had left him, alone, trying to pick out a ring. How was he ever going to explain this? Ron was his best friend, and he had spent the last week and a half spending all his energy on his enemy instead of his friend. It wasn't like he could just say, “Oi Ron, sorry to have buggered off the other day, but I ran into Malfoy and someone had tried to kill him, which seemed more important to me than helping out my best mate.” No, that wouldn't work. He would have to pop over to the Burrow in the next day or two and try to get his forgiveness.

For now though, he planned to enjoy his few, precious moments of solitude before diving back into the questions and predicaments and troubles waiting for him. Wandering on, the path forked, and he instinctively too the path to the left that seemed to wind through some shady trees. This really was a beautiful park. After the war was over, he had had much more time to himself to enjoy the city, and had found this park on one of his many travels. There was a pond with ducks and geese towards the center where kids raced boats in the summer, large expanses of grass for people to play frisbee or with their dogs, and even a small hutch to get food like ice cream or hot dogs on those rare summer days that were hot enough for people to want to be outside. His favorite thing about this park was what they did in December. Towards the north end of the park they sectioned off an area and built up a skate rink. It wasn't as popular as the big one in downtown, but that was part of its charm. Sometimes he would sneak in late at night and pretend as if it had been built for him alone.

After around an hour though, he knew it was time to go. There were a lot of things he had to take care of today, and now that it was almost nine, he knew Remus and Sirius would be wondering where he was. So, with one last look around at the first signs of the seasons changing, he took a big breath and popped back to Grimmauld place.

When he got back inside, he was surprised to find the drawing room empty. With all the activity as of late, he had grown accustomed to seeing a doctor or Sirius or Malfoy walking around. Remembering his hasty exit this morning, he realized he had yet to eat anything, so he made his way to the kitchen. As he entered, he could tell he was not alone in his hunger. A he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Lupin had conjured a large arm chair to sit in front of the fire. He had obviously been reading, but had paused to smile up at Harry.

“Good morning Harry. I was quite surprised this morning when I awoke to a quiet, empty house. Apparently, no one cared to wake me to inform me that our impromptu guest was leaving.” Lupin replied, smile betraying the lack of true anger in his words. “How disappointing that I didn't get to say goodbye.” He said, smile visible behind his steaming cup of coffee.

Harry sniggered back at him, strolling over to join him in a similar conjured chair. “Yes, I'm sure he sends his highest regards and thanks for your generous hospitality.”

Lupin laughed slightly before his face turned serious. “Harry, we should talk about what happened. It seems highly unusual for you to bring anyone new here without talking to me, much less Mr. Malfoy.”

Harry's wasn't sure how to respond to that. It was unusual that he brought him here. Actually, Harry had barely been here in the last few months. Ever since he bought his flat in Godric's Hollow, he spent most of his time there, Hermione's apartment in London, or at the Burrow. He felt a small twinge of guilt at the realization. “You're right, it’s weird. I guess I just panicked. I knew I needed to get him somewhere safe, and since you and Sirius kept most of the old wards in place, I don't really know anywhere safer. It's not like the Weasleys would have opened their arms to him. I just sort of saw you and Sirius as more open. More understanding. Especially with what you know Severus told me.” Harry shuddered a bit at the memory. Even know, he didn’t like thinking much about those final moments of his old teacher’s life.

“Yes, I am well aware of what was asked of you. I think you were right to bring him here. Sirius is more of a bleeding heart than he likes to let on, much like you. James would have never approved, of course, but being around Sirius has softened me. Believe it or not, that man learned quite a bit of compassion from you. We all did,” Lupin replied, eyes sparkling. Harry could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

“Yeah well, too bad Malfoy doesn't have any.” Harry couldn't help but brood. He was still furious that the other boy had just walked away, without even trying to find out the truth about what was going on. Lost in his own thoughts, he almost didn't hear Remus reply.

“Harry,” his own name was enough to bring him back to the present, Remus' voice was low in question, “are you sure there isn't some other reason you are suddenly so concerned with young Draco's actions and well being? Other than just being a good person and a Gryffindor?”

Harry scoffed, but found himself fidgeting.. “What other reason could there be? I hate the git. He's caused me nothing but hell for half my life. Though, I guess he did save me as well. Maybe I just feel I owe him a debt.” Yeah, that was it. A debt.

Remus looked like he didn't quite believe him, but after a moment nodded his head once. “Alright, if that's all you feel it is.” The man stood to leave, grabbing his book off the arm of the chair before making it disappear in a small puff of smoke. Just before he got to the stairs to leave the room, he turned. “Just so you know, if there's ever something else you want to talk to me about regarding your situation with him, I'm always here.”

Before Harry could protest, Lupin was gone, leaving him downstairs with more questions than answers. As he gazed into the fire, he felt his eyes start to droop. It had been a very long week, and a very early morning. So with questions about Draco floating around in his head, he drifted off into an easy slumber in front of the fire.

The next time Harry opened his eyes, the fire that had been burning in front of him had turned to embers and he had no idea how long he had been asleep. Though he was fairly certain he had been having a nightmare just before waking. He could remember hearing someone scream, but couldn't remember exactly what it had been about. Pushing up to his feet, he stretched out his back. Falling asleep in a chair had definitely not been good on his back, as he could feel the tendons straining and the bones settling back into place. Walking over to the fridge with eyes still droopy, he pulled open the doors and stared at the food not really processing what he was seeing. He shook his head after a few moments, finding nothing of interest, before heading back upstairs. As he reached the landing, he saw that the sun was already halfway across the sky. “Shit,” he cursed to himself. He had wasted his whole day.

Walking through the halls, it seemed as if he was the only one here, which he decided was a good thing. He wasn't exactly in the mood for any more inquisitions into his motivations. Just as he was walking into the drawing room to read a book, he heard the rustling of feathers as Hedwig swooped over his head and dropped a letter. It was addressed to him. From Ron. Shit.

Harry,

Thanks a lot for abandoning me mate! I can't believe you just disappeared. Good to know that you had so many other things going on that you couldn't be bothered to wait a bit longer for me to choose a ring. I had to go and do it without you and I probably messed up and got something useless. Thought maybe something had happened to you, but then I ran into Pansy Parkinson and she said she thought she saw you drinking at the pub. Real nice of you! Even popped by your flat to check in on you and when I saw that Hedwig was gone I realized you had gone off somewhere and just not told me. Thankfully I firecalled Sirius and he said you were fine, but an owl would have been nice. It's been over a week and we hear nothing and have no idea where you are! Sirius seemed to know, but wasn't talking. I gave you some time to contact me, and Hermione doesn’t want me writing you, but I am bloody frustrated. I thought we had stopped keeping secrets from each other after the war. I can't believe there's something you are keeping from me. I mean, maybe Hermione, Merlin know she can't keep a bloody secret, but not me. Just don't tell her I said that. You better have a good explanation for this.

-Ron

p.s. Oh yeah, and you should probably telephone Hermione. She's worried sick about you, even after Sirius told us you were alright.

Harry groaned as he read the letter, running a hand through his messy hair. He should have stopped by the Burrow this morning after dropping Malfoy off, but he didn't think Ron would get so mad. Why did Sirius open his big mouth? It wasn't like they would understand his need to save Draco. He barely understood it. But he had to come up with something. He didn't need his best friends mad at him or thinking he was dead. So it was decided, he was going to have to go over to the Burrow and tell them... something. He sighed out loud before dragging himself upstairs to get ready.

After a hot shower and a change of clothes, Harry was ready to go. It seemed like he hadn't stopped moving all day, even with his nap. This whole bullshit with Malfoy really screwed him up. The other boy was just so pretentious and arrogant! Even with his life in danger, he couldn't swallow his pride and admit he needed help. Then again, maybe Harry shouldn't have pushed him so hard. He just didn't know another way to motivate him. For some reason that rhe couldn't really explain, he felt very protective over the bloody wanker. Not that he deserved it.

Great, now I'm all worked up again before I have to go fight with Ron. Harry huffed. But, he had no choice. So for now he put this latest drama behind him and got him self to the Apparation point outside. With one last shake of his head to try to get his mind back on his friends, he finally popped over to the Burrow, just in time to see the sun beginning to slip below the horizon.

As he walked up to the back door, he could hear the distinct sound of the twins laughing at something and saw the back of Hermione's head through the window. The closer he got, the more he could smell the feast Molly must be making. Though he couldn't quite tell everything, he knew he could smell potatoes and what smelled like Cornish game hen. The smell alone made his stomach cramp, reminding him he had basically not eaten today. Walking up, he drummed a quick rhythm on the door, causing everyone to turn towards the door.

“Harry!” Fred and George said in unison as they let him in, with big smiles on their faces. “Good to see you mate.” Well, at least he knew these two weren't mad at him. Though, he wasn't positive they even knew how to get mad. He gave them a big smile in return.

Hermione on the other hand turned and had a thousand emotions cross her face at once, from relief to anger and back again. She stormed over to him, and smacked him on the arm. “Don't you ever do that to me again Harry James Potter, I have been worried sick about you all week.” But despite clearly trying her hardest to be mad, her words were not echoed in her actions as she wrapped him tightly in a hug.

“I missed you too Hermione. And I'm fine.” He took a step back and held out his arms so she could inspect him, before laughing. “I promise I'll explain, but please tell me you have food. I'm starved.”

Hermione didn't seem to accept his answer, but didn't have time to protest. As if on cue, Molly walked into the room and gave Harry a big smile. “Harry! I wasn't expecting you. It's so good to see you, please come sit. There's plenty of food.” Without even waiting for a response, she began fixing him a plate. He was right on the game hen, and along with it was carrots, green beans, boiled potatoes, and what looked like fresh baked bread. He couldn't have been happier with this feast. When you spend most of your time with two bachelors and a constantly disgruntled house elf, good food is a rarity. And it’s not as if he cooks gourmet meals for himself when he is at home. As Harry began to eat, everyone else sat down and began having their dinner as well.

With that, conversation eased into light conversation. Fred and George had just gotten back from Bulgaria where they had been testing the properties of a certain berry to turn a person into a purple ferret. Apparently when they tested it, Fred couldn't change back for nearly two days, until they ran into a witch in the woods who knew the antidote. Harry couldn't help but laugh at the image. And Hermione had spent the entire week at Ginny's new townhouse in Ireland. There was apparently some big secret, but even Molly couldn't get it out of her. All in all the evening was going quite well. So much so that Harry almost forgot the reason he had come over in the first place. That is, until Ron walked in.

All at once everything he had been through hit him in the gut. Malfoy, the Dark Collective, Ron being pissed, and it was all too much at once. “Nice to see you can reappear for dinner, mate.” He spat the last word with venom in his voice. He hadn't seen that look on Ron’s face since the Triwizard Cup incident in fourth year.

But Harry tried to keep his cool, it wouldn't do to go flying off the handle at Ron. “I'm sorry, can we just talk? I'd like to explain.”

“Well come on then.” Ron turned and walked back out the door. Harry sighed, and no one else said anything. Clearly they all had known what had been going on. Looking around, it was clear no one was going to help him out of this one. So he got up dejectedly, with Hermione following suit. This was the part of the evening he had least been looking forward to.

Once outside, Ron turned and looked at him with a look of rage on his face. “What the fuck Harry? We go shopping then you just disappear on me. I stop by your flat, no one’s there. I talk to Sirius, he won’t tell me what’s going on. This is bull shit, I’m supposed to be your best friend.”

Harry let him finish his rant before he even tried to say anything. He understood why Ron was so mad, he would have been too, but only because he worried about his friends. “I know it was shitty, and I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact. It was official Ministry business that I couldn’t talk about at the time. I was put on assignment.”

Ron looked a tad confused. It was as if he understood Harry’s explanation but wanted to stay mad. “Assignment?” He asked, quizzically. Even Ron at his angriest couldn’t pass up the curiosity of a secret assignment, which is exactly what Harry had been banking on. And it wasn’t entirely untrue. Harry had brought the little he knew about this new collective straight to Kingsley, leaving out the details of a particularly stubborn blonde. Kingsley had instructed him to continue looking into it. In fact, Harry realized that there was a stack of papers waiting on his desk for him as they spoke.

“Yeah. I would have come sooner but I’ve been stuck at Grimmauld Place all week because of this case. Kingsley has me running around, following a bunch of lead. A lot of it I can’t even run through the ministry because it’s all Order information. I can’t tell you everything but what I can tell you is that something bad is happening in the wizarding world again, and it doesn’t bode well for anyone. That’s actually part of why I’m here, I think I need your guys’ help,” Harry told his friends, thinking back over what he had heard at work.

He had heard the rumors around the Auror's office of course, that there was something bad coming, talk of a new evil clamoring for power. But that's the way it seemed to be every few months at the ministry since Harry had started. Rumors, small talk, theories, and almost all of them ended up being nothing. So he had brushed it off, something in the to do pile on his desk of evil-doers and new dark lords to check out. Until he got some solid proof, what was the point in going on a wild goose chase anyways? But now he really wished that he had listened.

As they spoke, the three sat in a clearing not far from the area they always used for Quidditch. How he wished he could be up in the air flying with his friends instead of going through what could be the makings of another war. Harry told them everything he knew which, admittedly, wasn’t much. He told them about the attempt on Malfoy’s life (while leaving out that it was Malfoy), told them how the group had no leader, and told them their perceived motivations. As he talked, both Hermione and Ron stayed very quiet.

“I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be telling you any of this, but I don’t want to go into this alone. You two were there with me when we fought Voldemort, and I need you by my side again. I have a feeling this is going to get very ugly very quickly.” Harry explained solemnly.

Hermione had been uncharacteristically quiet, so Harry was startled when she suddenly spoke. “Harry, we will always be by your side, you know that. I’m worried though. This feels bad. I’m going to need to do some research, ask around a bit. Maybe I should call Lupin. I’ll have to be discreet of course.” She seemed lost to her thoughts, thinking through her usual list of needed tasks. This was why he always came to them.

“Think you can forgive me now, Ron?” Harry asked.

Ron certainly looked less angry. “I suppose. But maybe next time, give a guy a little warning before you go off to save the day again.”

Harry beamed a big smile at him. “Can do, mate. Come on, let’s head back inside.”

All three got up and started for inside. As they walked, Hermione slowed her walk slightly, and Harry followed suit. Hermione spoke to him in a hushed voice, clearly not wanting to be overheard. “Harry, I have a really bad feeling about all of this. Things have been too quiet. Have you brought this to the Order? Are you sure you can’t tell me who they are targeting? It may help me identify what’s going on.”

Harry shook his head. “Yes, the order knows. That’s how Sirius and Lupin were able to give me a lot of this information. And no, I can’t tell you any more than I already have. Not yet at least. When the time is right, I’m sure we’ll talk about it. But I promise, I will tell you anything I learn and don’t have to keep secret.”

Hermione looked down at her feet a moment, as if forcing herself not to pry, before stopping and looking Harry right in the eyes. “Just be careful, okay?”

He gave her a half smile. “I will be, I promise.”


	7. Chapter 7

Draco grabbed his wand, arming himself against whoever was there. It didn’t bode well that someone knew the minute he got home, and he wasn’t about to let whoever was outside his door get the jump on him. Slowly, he inched toward the door, careful to make as little sound as humanly possible. Though he would never admit it, there was a slight feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Malfoys weren’t supposed to have fear. Though it had only been a few moments, the tension in the room sent pulses of fear down his arms and spine making it feel like hours had passed. A moment or two later, the knocks were repeated, only louder. It seemed odd that someone trying to kill him would knock, especially twice, but he couldn’t be too careful.

Then, just as he was getting ready to blast the door open, he heard a familiar voice. “Draco? Are you in there? Open up you, bloody wanker!” It was only Pansy. He breathed a sigh of relief as his erratic pulse automatically begin to settle, before composing himself to open the door. As he clicked the lock, the door flew open on its own as she threw her arms around his neck. The feeling jarred him a bit, but he quickly returned the hug. “I’m so glad you are okay. When you broke our coffee date I got worried, and stopped by but you weren’t here. Where the hell have you been?” she asked him, sounding genuinely concerned.

Draco couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t often that Pansy Parkinson showed concern or worry, and he was relieved to have his oldest friend here. After all the crazy that had been the last week, he needed a friendly face. “Merlin, do I have a story to tell you,” he replied, closing the door behind her as she went to sit on the couch.

“Oh really? This sounds good, do tell.” She said, voice dripping with curiosity. It amazed him how quickly she could slide from her slight state of panic back to the cool and collected regality Pansy normally carried herself with. Draco couldn’t help but be glad she was here. She was the only one he had to talk to about this stuff anymore.

So Draco sat and recounted the last ten days, not leaving anything out. The days of him having secrets from Pansy were far behind him. Though he hated admitting having to be “saved,” especially by Saint Potter, he knew it was for the best to just get it all out now. She had this eerie ability of always finding things out, even if there was no conceivable way for her to. So on the conversation went. Pansy was a very good listener, staying quiet when she should, asking questions when it was appropriate, gasping as he said he was poisoned. It always made her fun to tell stories to. After an hour or so, when he was finished, he felt mentally exhausted.

“Well, you certainly have had an eventful week. And I thought things were interesting when I ran into Blaise in Hogsmeade,” Pansy said.

“You ran into Blaise? How’s he doing? And why were you in Hogsmeade?” Draco questioned, raising an eyebrow to her odd behavior.

Pansy sat back, rolling her eyes. “I was there for a date. Nothing exciting and no I don’t want to talk about it.” She stated flatly, in obvious response to Draco cocking an eyebrow in question. Though curious, he smartly stayed quiet. He had been in enough arguments today. “But Blaise is a much more interesting topic of conversation, don’t you think, Draco?”

He could feel a slight blush rising to his cheeks. The last time they had seen each other had not been especially pleasant. Blaise had been the first person Draco had told the real reason he had broken up with Pansy, which he hadn’t told her until he met up with her a number of years later. “Yes, much more interesting,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Are you going to continue mocking me or are you going to finish your story? Or maybe I should just start pressing you about your date?”

Pansy glowered at Draco. “You’re no fun. Fine. I decided to pop in to the Hog’s Head for a drink after the disaster of my date was over and saw him at the bar. Honestly it wasn’t all that eventful, just more exciting than my life has been as of late. We talked for a while and caught up. It was actually nice,” she said. “Hey, speaking of a drink, what do you have for liquor in this house?”

Draco stood and went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge door and realized it was empty. “Shit.”

“What’s the problem?” Pansy asked before came over and peered inside the empty fridge.

“The whole reason I went to bloody Diagon Alley was to do some shopping. Passing out clearly kept me from accomplishing even that small task.” Draco shook his head in frustration, which made Pansy laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” With that, Pansy snapped her finger and a small female house elf appeared. “Trinket, fill Draco here’s fridge and cabinets with food and liquor. Oh, and do use mother’s money.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Shove it, Malfoy,” she teased. “It’s just a bit of food. Don’t need my best friend starving.”

Realizing he really could use the help, Draco nodded his head dejectedly. “Thank you. There was a time when I never had to think about any of this stuff.”

“Yeah well, that was before you ran away from home and gave up your money and your title. You were practically royalty, and now you have this.” She laughed, as if it was no big deal.

“I didn’t have another choice, you know that.”

“You’re right, I do. Doesn’t make what I said any less true.”

“Yeah, I know.” Draco said, leaning against the counter. Whether he liked it or not, this was the life he had now. There was no going back to a life of leisure where everything he ever wanted was easily his. Then again, he never really had that to begin with. It was all a cleverly designed illusion to make him believe that he was worth something because of his name.

Draco sulked for a moment more before the small house elf returned with more food then Draco even knew what to do with. Though he was grateful, Pansy shrugged off further attempts to thank her and waved the elf off with a small gesture after everything was put away. “He asked about you, you know. Blaise, I mean.”

“Oh really now? And what did you tell him?” Draco tried his best to act like he was sarcastic, but he knew the moment the words were out of his mouth that she saw straight through them. He missed Blaise a great deal. Thankfully she didn’t do him the disservice of outing him for it.

Pansy took her time with responding, making her way back to the couch and propping her feet up. She obviously knew the curiosity was driving Draco crazy. “He said he misses you, and that he hopes the reports that you’re dead haven’t been true. He also said, ‘I shouldn’t have over reacted when he kissed me’ or something to that effect.” Pansy stated, with a glint in her eye that Draco wasn’t overly fond of.

“Dammit, I should have Obliviated him when I had the chance.” Draco muttered under his breath, causing Pansy to laugh so much she nearly spilled the drink he hadn’t even noticed she had poured. “It’s not funny! I was so pissed that night I could barely see straight. I don’t even remember getting home. There’s a reason I don’t drink tequila anymore.”

Pansy laughed again. “It is funny to the rest of us, especially me, since you dumped me because you’re a bloody poof.”

“Yeah well at least I wasn’t the one who got the nickname fruit fly for turning me.”

She hit him on the arm hard. “Fuck off, Draco! You were the only one who called me that.” She said, though the small smile turning up at the sides of her lips betrayed that she was not really angry.

“Ow! That hurt!” He joked back.

“Good! You deserved it,” she said, still laughing. “You really should write him. He probably thinks you’re dead, and you could use someone to complain to about Harry bloody Potter beside me.”

“Yeah, you’re right. He was one of my best friends before I fucked that up. It’s not right for me to leave things like that with him just because I’m embarrassed. I’m just not sure I have it in me.” Draco admitted.

“Ah the oh-so famous Malfoy pride. I do not miss that part of dating you.” She said laughing. She was quiet for a moment before looking down at her feet and continuing. “Draco, I’m worried. This threat sounds bad. Someone wants you dead. Maybe you should come stay with me for a while, at least until the golden boy and his friends inevitably figure out what's going on. Then you can go kill the bastards that are after you. You know you’ll be safe with me.”

“As tempting as that offer is, I’m just going to stay here. I’m worried too, but I have obligations. A job. Rent. Besides, no one is even supposed to know that you know where I am. I’m in hiding, remember? I promise I’ll be fine.” Draco said, putting his hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Though he didn’t know if he even believed it, he was going to do his damnedest to make sure at least she believed him.

“Fine, have it your way.” She stood and went to the kitchen to refill her drink, though Draco suspected it had more to do with trying to break the tension. A moment later, she turned quickly with a wicked looking grin on her face. “So, what’s the deal with Potter anyways? Planning on going after him one night when you’ve had a bit too much to drink, too?”

Draco was taken aback. He could not believe she went there. As if he would ever be attracted to Potter. “Are you serious? He’s a bloody Gryffindor! We spent our entire lives hating each other. Besides, he’s in love with the female Weasel,” Draco scoffed and took a long sip of the whisky Pansy handed him before continuing. “Like I’d go after the Golden Boy”

“Hmm, seems I touched a nerve. Interesting.” She sneered. “Besides, the last I heard the she Weasel was promised to another.”  
“Either way, there is no deal with Potter. He saved me in an alleyway and when I came to I left. End of story.”  
“Whatever you say, Dray.” Pansy said, giving him a wink as she ducked to avoid the pillow Draco threw at her heard.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he warned, earning himself another laugh from his so-called best friend. “So what else has been going on lately, we haven’t talked as much. I even bought one of those bloody cell phones that your Muggle boyfriend got you hooked on last year, and you still don’t ring me.” Draco said, remembering the contraption she had insisted he buy. She liked being able to get a hold of him right away without worrying where he was, though he hadn’t taken it out of his sock drawer in three months.

“Please, even if I had tried to call you, the damn thing is never even charged,” she said mockingly, to which Draco didn’t reply, knowing she was right. “There is one thing you should probably know. I don’t know if it’s relevant to what’s going on, but it may be.” Her words were confident, but her unfocused eyes betrayed her nerves. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

“Well, spit it out.” Draco replied, his stomach doing a flip. He didn’t know how, but he knew this was not going to be good.

“Your father got sent to Azkaban.” Pansy said solemnly, taking Draco’s hands in her own.

Draco sat back. It seemed like the news should be hitting him differently. As if he should be angry, or sad, or concerned at least. Yet, as he heard the admittedly terrible news, he couldn’t seem to feel anything for his father at all. Though he did hope his mother was holding up alright. It had been a long time since they had spoken, but he would always have a soft spot for her. “What did he do?”

“Honestly no one really knows. The Prophet reported it and had a picture of him being taken out of the Manor in chains, but there really wasn’t any story,” she stated. “They talked about his past as a Death Eater and that, apparently, he hadn’t changed his ways. This was almost two weeks ago. It just seems odd that his imprisonment nearly lines up with someone poisoning you.”

“Are you accusing my father of being behind my attempted murder?” Draco questioned, surprisingly indifferent.

“No!” She exclaimed. When she spoke again, however, her voice was much quieter. “No. I just think you need to be careful about who you trust right now. If you are really going to stay, just make sure you watch your back.”

Draco smiled at his old friend With everything else going on around him, he was grateful to at least have her in his life. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I’m a Malfoy. We survive.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t like other threats. This ‘Dark Collective’ as you called it, seems to just want generalized destruction. Yet they still seem to be targeting you. I’m not sure who you pissed off Draco, but I don’t want to lose you, We have all lost too much already,” she said, putting a hand softly on his knee.

Draco tried to give her a reassuring smile. “You won’t, I promise. I love you too much.” He absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair, something that was rapidly becoming a bad habit of his. “But it really doesn’t make a lot of sense. I’ve been keeping my head down, I haven’t ruffled any feathers, and I’ve kept my hands clean. I have a hard time believing that this is all over some school grudge or wrongdoing, but no one even knows about my life now. Whoever the puppet master is here clearly has a motivation I can’t think of.”

Pansy put a hand on his knee, effectively pulling him out of the hole he was drifting to inside his own mind. “It is odd. What do they want with you? And who are they? This is so different from last time. I honestly have no idea what to expect. That’s why I need to know you’ll be careful. We really have no idea what’s coming. Maybe whatever the reason is is something deep seeded. Something we haven’t thought of yet” She said, with more fear in her voice than Draco had heard in five years.

“I know. It’s rather bizarre isn’t it? No leader, no proclamations of looking for power, no big displays. I understood a power hungry dark lord, but this…” He trailed off, not sure how to continue.

“Is chaos,” she finished for him, reading his mind as usual. “And I’m decently sure that this is only the beginning.”


	8. Chapter 8

It had been three weeks since Harry had visited the Burrow and he had done everything in his power to forget about Malfoy, though that had been difficult considering that the situation at hand was all anyone seemed to want to talk to him about. When he was at work there was research going on. Due to his professional obligations he had gone to the Ministry with the information he knew about this new threat, though conveniently left Malfoy out of it. Ever since he told them that he felt that this was a real issue they had been following leads and going on missions, none of which led anywhere and all just led to more questions. It was giving him a migraine. Then when he would visit Remus and Sirius they wanted to know if he had been in touch with Draco or if he had heard anything else about why someone was targeting him. There wasn’t even an escape with Hermione and Ron, not that he had expected one. But no matter how many questions were asked, no matter how many people were looking into it, all they seemed to find were ghosts. So after all of the answerless questions, he decided it was time for some fun. It was a Thursday evening and he knew he should be preparing for his meeting next week, but he honestly couldn’t find it in himself to care. He decided to send an owl to work letting them know he was going to be following a lead tomorrow so he would not be in the office. Though it was probably wrong, every now and then it was nice that his status as an Auror afforded him days off when he really needed them. 

Besides, Halloween was only a few weeks away, and he hadn’t even begun to look for a costume yet. So, as he finished penning the note, he decided that he needed a day out. After a moment's deliberation, he decided to ring up Hermione and see if she wanted to tag along. Though Ron may never get used to the idea of using something as completely Muggle as a cell phone, Harry thought they were brilliant. Hermione’s parents had given her one a year ago when she had gone home for a visit, and it had taken an act of god for them to talk Arthur out of taking it apart. Harry had gone a day later to get one and ever since, communication had been worlds easier.

Smiling at his extremely adult decision to play hookey, he dialed her number. It rang twice before her cheery voice came through. “Harry, hello!”

“Hey ‘Mione. How are you today?” He asked, genuinely happy that she sounded to be in such good spirits.

“I’m doing lovely, Harry. Ron and I just got back from an evening picnic that was gorgeous and we have been making a lot of progress at work on a campaign to prevent the deforestation of thestrals habitat that has been going around. I honestly think if I can get a few more people within the ministry on board, we could really make some headway on saving their land. Just because most people can’t see them, doesn’t make their livelihood unimportant.!” She told him, sounding quite fired up.

“That’s great Hermione, good job.” Harry couldn’t help but laugh a bit. At least he knew his best friends would never change. “I’m glad you had such a good day then.”

“Thank you. How about yourself? Have you made any progress with that case?”

“Merlin, I can’t talk about the case anymore. That’s all anyone wants to talk to me about. It’s making my head throb. In fact, that’s why I called. I’m taking a mental health day tomorrow. I’m thinking about heading into Muggle London to get a Halloween costume, and I wanted to see if you would want to come with me. I don’t exactly have the best taste in clothes.”

Hermione let out a small, obviously excited squeal. “Oh goodness yes, that sounds fantastic. Oh I have so many ideas. There’s a prince or a lion, then there are funny ones I’ve seen…”

She kept talking as he mostly tuned her out. After over ten years of being friends with this woman, he had gotten exceptional at knowing when to say things like ‘yeah’ or ‘uh huh’ without really needing to know what she was saying. Sometimes he suspected she just liked the sound of her voice as she rattled off ideas and facts. He was so happy to have her around and liked how intelligent she was, but it still got a little exhausting at times. He couldn’t help himself for being distracted. So much was going on and had been lately. This whole dilemma with the Dark Collective was plaguing his thoughts nearly constantly.The paperwork had been piling on his underused desk for weeks. There seemed to be new people going missing every day. He didn’t even know if Malfoy was still alive or how he fit into this whole mystery? What was the connection? Since that day he hadn’t stopped following leads with Draco’s names attached to them, figuring he was involved somehow, that maybe he had just double-crossed him. But why would he give himself a dangerous poison just to trick Harry? It was all so just so frustrating and he was getting another migraine.

“Harry, are you even listening to me anymore?” he heard Hermione ask, sounding exasperated. Her voice shook him out of his thoughts. “Really Harry, if you don’t want to talk to me, then why do you call?”

“Sorry. Just distracted. There’s a lot going on at work. Thats why I need this personal day.” He answered honestly, even if this was only half of the issue.

“Well, what I was saying is that I’ll meet you in front of The Chapel Bar at 11:30 and then we can go look,” she repeated. “I know that a lot has been going on lately and I think that this outing away from the ministry and all the chaos is exactly what both of us need. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

Harry sighed. He knew he had been being a bad friend, and the truth was he was really looking forward to doing something normal for a change. “So am I, Hermione. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

It was a gorgeous fall day in London, which was quite a bit of good luck. Normally it would be chilly and drizzly which always made Harry want to stay inside. But today he woke to blue skies and warm sun. This was the perfect day to put everything behind him. He was going to be spending the day with one of his best friends, he was going to go look at Halloween costumes for a brilliant party they were throwing for the Hogwarts alumni who had been in the war, and he was not going to think at all about dark collectives, Auror duties, or Draco Malfoy.

Due to the incredible fortune of the day’s weather, Harry decided to walk to the bar where he was meeting Hermione. It was only a handful of blocks from Grimmauld Place and he could use the fresh air. There had been so many meetings and appointments and discussions inside, that he was happy to throw on a sweater and walk with the warm sun to his back and a slight breeze ruffling his forever unruly hair. As he walked, he went past a park filled with screaming and laughing children, a few cafes whose patrons were sipping their mid-morning tea on the patio, many Muggles walking their dogs, and more than one wizard who gave him a slight bow, recognizing him immediately. He was lucky that, by spending so much time in the area over the last few years, the awe of his presence seemed to have dulled considerably. It made him feel like he could actually enjoy having a relatively normal life.

It was just after eleven when he arrived at the bar, so he sat down and ordered a buttered rum, his favorite fall drink. Sitting down at the bar, he gazed around. It was a bit early so the place was nearly empty. He saw a young couple by the corner window giggling together, a few middle aged men yelling at a TV playing a rugby match, and an older gentleman at the end of the bar swirling a cup of what appeared to be brandy. He knew this place was very popular with the younger generations of Muggles at night, but during the day it catered to an older crowd.Though nice, it wasn’t really his taste. It was a modern bar with lots of neon lights at high end finishes. He was quite partial to the brick walls, dim lights, and homey feeling of The Leaky Cauldron or The Three Broomsticks himself.

After a few sips, he heard the door swing open. Turning, he was greeted with Hermione’s smiling face. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed just spending time with his friends doing normal things that didn’t involve possibly getting themselves killed until right now. He sent a big smile and quickly drained the last dregs of his drink before standing to meet her.

“Harry, it’s good to see you,” Hermione greeted him, with a hug and a smile to match his own.

“Same with you.Thanks for helping me today. I’m absolute rubbish when it comes to fashion, even halloween costumes I am really excited for this ball though. It’ll be nice to see everybody,” he replied. Sadly, with how busy he was, he had only gotten to see the old gang a few times since they graduated.

“Oh, me too. Besides, I love Halloween. I already know exactly what I want as a costume for Ron and I, which is good because that means more time to find something for you.” She replied, voice sounding more cheerful then he had heard it in a while. “There’s a store a handful of blocks from here I thought we could try. They have lots of beautiful costumes.”

“Alright Hermione, whatever sounds good to you,” Harry said, making his way toward the door. As they stepped outside, a slight breeze had picked up and he silently cursed himself for not bringing a jacket or at least a scarf. As they walked, Hermione absently babbled on about the mundane happenings at the Burrow and at work. Harry was more than content to idly listen. Here, with his friend, there were no death threats or arch-enemies or looming war. It was just two friends casually discussing life, the way normal twenty-somethings should. Though, like a normal twenty-something girl does do, she asked about some things he didn’t want to talk about.

“So Harry, I have to ask,” she asked in a voice that was much more innocent then the implication of the phrase implied, “when was the last time you went on a date? I always just assumed you and Ginny were going to wind up together, but that is obviously not happening now, all things considered. There are a few girls at work I know would love to meet you.”

Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Ginny was wonderful and what they had was great once upon a time, but he just hadn’t really cared about dating. “Hermione, Ginny and I were never going to end up together. I really do love her, but like a sister. Besides, she found someone much better than me, and I couldn’t be happier for her. And I don’t know, it hasn’t really been a priority. I guess you could say I married my work.”

“But you must get lonely in that big flat all alone.” She questioned, with a look in her eyes of real concern. 

Harry had to conceal a small laugh. He had spent most of his childhood with someone breathing down his neck, asking things of him, expecting things of him. It was actually kind of nice being alone sometimes. He wasn’t looking for someone to share a life with. Besides, when he did get lonely it wasn’t really hard to find someone willing to at least share his bed. The thought made him smirk.

Hermione clearly caught on. “Oh Harry, yuck!” She scolded. But before she could comment further, she stopped and Harry nearly plowed into her. “Oh, we’re here!” She stated, opening the door to the sound of a small bell.

After taking a moment to regain his composure, he followed her inside. What he saw was fantastic. It wasn’t a large shop, but clearly one with endless treasure to someone willing to search. On one wall there were masks of every conceivable shape, size and color. There were costumes for clowns, costumes for cats, costumes for princesses, and everything in between. In one corner he spotted a large red hat over a red medieval looking costume with a sword that he rather liked. The sign above it said Captain Hook, whoever that was. Just as he was considering trying it on, Hermione popped up.

“Boo!” She laughed loudly as she held a mask up in front of her face that somewhat resembled a werewolf. “Isn’t it ridiculous what Muggles think creatures from our world look like?” She looked over at the costume he had been toying with. “Oh Merlin, not that ugly thing. You should be trying to look good, not silly.”

Harry shrugged. “I liked the sword.” With a last look, he walked around the mannequin holding that costume and continued to look as Hermione disappeared again. For such a small shop, there seemed to be lots of good places to get lost in. The deeper he got into the shop, the larger he realized it was. There was a wall of multicolored wigs, a tall rack of various hats, a case of fake weapons, and more shoes than he even knew could exist. All around him were feathers and sequins, and reds and golds and greens. It was more than a little disorienting. To top it off, he kept getting the oddest feeling that someone was watching him. The entire thing was beginning to give him the creeps. Just as he was about to give up Hermione came rushing around the corner with an outfit on a hanger.

“This is going to be perfect!” She exclaimed, as she pushed him into a changing room. 

When he looked down, there was a poofy white shirt, short brown pants, long grey socks, and a brown vest with a long reddish brown cloak. “Hey, what’s the idea? This is going to make me look like more a poof than the last one I was looking at!”

“No, trust me, just put it on and come out.” She insisted.

He rolled his eyes, but decided to obey. He was never going to win this battle. As he got dressed and looked in the mirror, it confirmed his fears. He looked like a bloody poof. When he stepped out, before he could say anything, she placed two leather belts around his torso, with one sword on each side, and put a tan hat with a feather on his head. 

“Ok, look at yourself now.” She said, obviously quite pleased with herself. 

When he turned, he had to admit, he looked quite good. “Alright, I like it. But what the hell am I supposed to be?”

She rolled her eyes again. “Well, I saw that you liked the pirate costume so I put this together. You’re Will Turner from the Muggle film about pirates that we saw in the cinema. Still get your swords, but he is significantly more dashing. Don’t you think?”

Harry turned around to see the outfit from all sides. He did look rather good. Realizing that he couldn’t help but smile. “As usual, you’re right. I’ll get it.”

“Great, now I just need to find you shoes.” Her voice trailed off as she turned and headed for the shoe rack.

Again, he couldn’t help but laugh. Harry couldn’t imagine having a brain that worked as fast as Hermione’s. Spending an evening with Malfoy sounded more pleasant. He cursed himself again as he changed back into his street clothes. That was a direct breach in his plan for the day. No Malfoy. So that meant he couldn’t start thinking about whether Malfoy was okay. Or if Malfoy was going to be at the ball. Or what Malfoy was going to be for Halloween. Shit, what was he thinking? What did he care about the bloody git? This was his chance to be with his friends and it made no difference whatsoever if he would be there. Besides, Slytherins were far too full of themselves to come to something like a reunion where everyone hated them anyways.

As he was thinking, he wandered up to the checkout counter in the front to pay and hit the small bell for assistance. After a few seconds, an older woman with mousey hair came from behind a curtain. “Will this be all?” she questioned, sounding bored.

“Oh yes. Thank you.” She began to scan his items slowly, causing Harry to sigh. This made her glare at him, but still she continued at the same pace. As she was finishing, he heard Hermione from behind him.

“There you are, did you forget I was getting you shoes?” She asked.

“Sorry, I did. I’m just a little preoccupied.” He turned and handed the shoes to the unpleasant woman behind the register. “These too.” She took them and scanned them without saying anything, and then took Harry’s money before disappearing behind the curtain again.

Hermione led the way out, and they walked a ways in silence. Harry began to feel like he was being followed again, and his eyes kept darting left and right. When he would see no one, he just blamed it on his lack of sleep. After a few minutes of this, Hermione shook her head and sighed. “Harry, why don’t you go on home? You don’t look like you’re sleeping much. And I only have a couple more stops to make anyways. I had a lot of fun, and I don’t mind ending it here.”

Harry scratched his head and sighed. He definitely didn’t want to go home, but he wasn’t feeling much for socializing anymore either. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I think I’ll stop off for a bite and then head home.” This was partially true, but he more intended to stop for a drink than he did dinner. With how much was going on in his head, he needed something to quiet the thoughts.

“Alright Harry,” she said, giving him a big hug. “Well, if I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you at the big party.” Her smile was genuine and it made him glad he had seen her today.

“Yes, see you soon,” he called after her fading figure, as she walked the other way.

After he was sure she was gone, Harry apparated outside of The Hog’s Head, knowing it would be far easier for him to get some privacy here than at other bars. Walking through the doors, he saw his suspicions were correct, as there was hardly another person there, save for the bartender. After ordering a whisky sour, he made his way to a table in the corner, with his back to the door so that if anyone walked in they wouldn’t be able to see his face.

As he sipped on his drink, his mind drifted back to the odd sensation he got earlier, that made the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was like he was being watched but there had been no one there. Perhaps it had been a spell, someone tracking him? He wasn’t sure, but he suddenly felt extremely exposed. A moment later he heard someone slip into the booth behind him. Turning his head slightly, he could tell this figure was wearing a cloak, making it impossible for him to tell who they were. A few tense moments went by, and just as Harry was beginning to think he was being paranoid, the other figure spoke. 

“We know what you have been doing, Harry Potter. We have been watching you.” A man’s voice stated, his words dripping with malice. “You are not our mission, but we will kill anyone that gets in our way. Stay away from Draco Malfoy, or we will make sure you do. This will be your one and only warning.”

While the other man spoke, Harry slowly moved to grab his wand. As soon as the other was done speaking, he quickly got up, and spun around, wand erect with every intention or seizing his opponent, but when he looked there is no one there. After taking a moment to steady himself, he gets a wave of searing hot panic that runs straight through his core as he realized what just happened. 

_Draco_

Malfoy may be an arrogant arse, but Harry couldn’t, in good conscience, let him die. These people had threatened them both. Besides, if they were tailing Harry and telling him to stay away then obviously he was getting close to them and they viewed him as the threat. Either way, his choice was clear. Harry Potter was going to have to save Draco Malfoy.

A second later he found himself outside the flat he had been to two weeks ago. The feeling of dread in Harry’s stomach deepened when he realized the front door was open. Harry took out his wand and cautiously walked toward the open door. As he pushed it open, he saw that all of the lights and the television were on and Malfoy was lying on the couch. Harry quickly went to him and saw he was breathing. Just as Harry was about to search the rest of the residence, he heard Malfoy mumble something.

“What’er you doin’ ear?” Draco slurred, eyes half open looking right at Harry.

Great, he was drunk. Harry’s night just got a lot more difficult, but at least this explained why the front door had been left open. “I’m here to help save your life.” He replied, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

At that, Malfoy heaved himself up and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, in what appeared to be an embrace. Though he realized this meant Draco was a lot more drunk than he first thought, Harry couldn’t help the wave if heat that went to his face at the other man’s closeness.

“I missed you. I didn’ think I’d see you ‘till—hic—t’morrow,” Draco cooed, entirely too close to Harry’s ear for his liking. Harry shoved him back on to the couch.

“What are you talking about? Why did you think you were seeing me tomorrow?” he questioned.

“Cuz it’s date night, silly.” On the last word, Malfoy booped Harry’s nose, before collapsing into a fit of hiccups and laughs. This was going to be an extremely long night, especially since Malfoy seemed to be hallucinating. “I like yur eyes,” he finally said, after the hiccups subsided. “‘ave they always ben green?”

Harry chose not to answer, even though the words caused his stomach to do a backflip. He was uncomfortable with how deeply Draco seemed to be looking at him, so he got up to get water and coffee. Hopefully he could get him sober enough to either go to bed or come with him. He made his way into the kitchen, and began opening cabinets. For how wealthy the Malfoy family was, not much was there. After looking at a few boxes of food and plates, he finally found the mugs and glasses. He poured a glass of water and two mugs of coffee before heading back to the couch. He gave the water and coffee to a willing Malfoy, before settling in an armchair opposite his quite sloshed, very obnoxious nemesis. Harry reminded himself that this was going to make for wonderful blackmail when their lives were no longer in peril.

After gulping down most of the water, Draco pouted out his lower lip and looked at Harry. “Are you mad at me?”

Harry sighed, realizing that trying to get him to Grimmauld Place tonight was a fruitless effort. “No, I’m not. But we need to get you to bed. You are going to have a wicked hangover in the morning and I still have to convince you to come back with me.” He then stood and went to Draco, putting an arm under his, to help him to his feet. This caused Draco to laugh uncontrollably once again. Harry rolled his eyes. “Let’s get you to bed.”

The two hobbled forward, Malfoy putting in nearly zero effort to walk. Again though, the only thing Harry seemed to be able to concentrate on what how warm Draco felt pressed up against him. This was something he was just going to have to ignore. Eventually, after a few stumbles, Harry got the git to his bed. Amazingly, getting him in the bed was the easiest part of the evening thus far. Harry was just glad that the night was over, or so he thought.

As Harry turned to leave, Draco spoke again. “You could always join me in here ya know. It’s much warmer than it is out there.”

The words caused Harry stomach to flip again and another blush to cross his cheeks. He turned and rolled his eyes. “Goodnight Draco.”

Draco gave a small smile, apparently not up for fighting him any longer. “Goodnight Duncan.” And before he even finished he was asleep.

Harry on the other hand was confused. Who in the hell was Duncan and why did Malfoy think it was him. For some reason, that one moment made him furious. It was a good thing the blonde was passed out drunk, because as Harry went back to the living room he slammed the door shut. Harry didn’t know why he was so mad, but he couldn’t think about it now. He tried to clean up a bit to calm down, and after realizing that wasn’t going to work decided he needed sleep.

So Harry flipped off the last of the lights and locked the door. As he lay down, his mind kept going over the day. He woke up promising to not think about Malfoy once today and was ending it on Draco’s couch, silently fuming over why the bloody tosser thought he was someone named Duncan and had invited him into his bed. What had he gotten himself into? After a while of tossing and turning on the lumpy couch, Harry finally fell into a restless sleep filled with images of Draco and some other faceless man.


	9. Chapter 9

Two weeks earlier

Draco couldn’t believe two weeks had gone by since Pansy had left. It felt like just yesterday he was waking up in a strange house inhabited by Potter and his family, and now he had an article due, was already running low on some food, and was beginning to wonder if the whole thing had just been a bad dream. Since that day there had been no attempts on his life, no one had come around his place, and he had only gotten one owl from Pansy asking Draco to come to tea. All in all, his life had gone back to the quiet, boring one he had had before being poisoned. Admittedly he wasn’t quite sure if this was a curse or a blessing. On the one hand, no one had tried to kill him. But on the other, before this week he had begun to forget how nice it was to be around people, even ones as simple as Potter’s lot. Not that he was missing Harry bloody Potter. He audibly scoffed at how ludicrous of an idea that was. And yet, now that he was back in his life, all alone, he was hopelessly bored and lonely.

He sighed loudly as he leaned back in the chair at his writing desk, staring at a blank page with zero inspiration. If he didn’t get this article written soon, he wasn’t going to make rent next month. Yet, after sitting a few minutes longer, he realized tonight was not going to be that night. As he pushed back from the desk, the scraping of the chair legs on his faux wood floor made a loud screech that interrupted the definitive silence of the room, making him cringe. It was far too quiet and it was leaving him feeling slightly unhinged. Just to break the silence, he switched on the TV to some reruns before pouring himself three fingers of whiskey. At the last moment he splashed some more into the glass, before putting the stopped back i his decanter. Yes, he definitely had writers block. It didn’t help that he couldn’t get his mind off of how infuriating Potter had been. Asking him to stay, like he was a child who needed protection. Clearly this week showed he would be fine on his own.

Part of him had to admit, it was nice to have someone care. Affection and worry weren’t things his father had showed, and his mother was scarcely better. Malfoys’ took care of themselves and didn’t waste time on other people’s troubles. They had definitely loved him, but they just didn’t show it. Potter, on the other hand, seemed to make it his personal mission to save everyone. He wasn’t surprised. Draco was certain Potter had grown up in a cushy home with family that hugged him all the time, doted on his every whim, and allowed him to be the celebrity he wanted to be. There was no way the rumors of neglect and abuse were true. No one would stand for their savior to have a less than perfect life. So it obviously wasn’t personal when Potter saved Draco. Again. No, Draco wasn’t special; he was just another soul that needed saving. Not that he wanted or needed to be special to that bloody git. In fact, he didn’t need anyone to worry about him. The closest thing to worry he got was from Pansy, but even she masked it in sarcasm most of the time.

A few sips into his drink and about halfway through some stupid sitcom, Draco decided he was done with sulking by himself. He was going to go out. There were a ton of bars in the area, and it had been too long since he just went and had fun. Besides, it was a Friday night not too long before Halloween. There must be something better to do then this.

So Draco moved to get himself ready. It had been expectedly cold lately, making it sweater weather. He grabbed his favorite silver and green one pairing it with black wool trousers and the dragon hide boots he bought in Milan a few years back.. Tonight, his goal was to impress. Looking in the mirror, he decided to wear his hair a bit loose, a controlled messy look. He knew he was going to turn heads tonight, and there was nothing he would like more. What better way to get this past month of threats and annoyance and troubles off his mind? Maybe he could even find someone to take home tonight. Yes, this was exactly what he needed. So with a few last touches, he grabbed his favorite blazer and was out the door.

Despite the slight chill of the October air, he chose to walk. He was actually rather fond of the cold. Besides, there were so many tree lined streets and twinkling lights, he couldn’t help but want to be outside. In general, he preferred being outside, whether it be in a concrete jungle or a forest, something about the fresh air helped clear the dusty corners of his mind. Today was no different. It was still fairly early as he strolled towards a local pub he liked, so there were many people on the street. Most were Muggles in this corner of town, so they didn’t recognize him. A few even tipped their hats in a short greeting. Draco couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it felt like to be normal. People greeting you with no fear in their eyes, enjoying some of the last clear weather of the year, going to a local pub. He could almost imagine, if only for a moment, that this could actually be his life. That somehow, someday, he could have a semblance of a normal life like the ones of the few people he passed. These people with their normal lives had normal concerns about missing television shows, terrible bosses, and whether they should really have that pie because they were going to the Bahama’s in a month. They didn’t have to think about people trying to kill them or meddling school rivals. The idea made the corners of his mouth twitch up slightly.

Draco quickly abandoned those thoughts when he turned a corner. Although the air temperature had not changed, he suddenly felt a rush of cold like ice water down his spine. Where a moment ago the world seemed so open and inviting, he now could sense that he was not alone. Despite seeing no one, he knew there were eyes on him. Initially he tried to act calm and continue along at his leisurely pace. No one got the best of Draco Malfoy. Yet after a few minutes, the feeling began to grow stronger. It was like they were right behind him, breathing their cold breath on his neck causing the hairs to stand straight. Yet when he looked around, there was no one there. Beginning to fear the worst, he broke into a run. Hadn’t there been a bunch of people around him before? Where had they all gone? He ran for what felt like a long time, not even completely aware of where he was anymore, when he saw a bright, illuminated sign for a pool hall ahead. ‘If I can just get there I’ll be safe,’ he told himself. It would be full of Muggles, and even former Death Eaters didn’t want to expose magic to them. Feeling the presence closing in on him, he finally got to the bar and yanked open the door. And as he got inside, he ran smack into another form, who luckily caught him and held him steady. Wholly embarrassed, he looked up into the face of his accidental emergency brake, and suddenly could not remember why he had been running in the first place.

The man was the most exquisite creature he had ever seen. He was tall, even taller than Draco, and very lean. Despite the slender frame, the man’s body was solid, clearly made of muscle. He had bright blue eyes that were as clear as glass and pitch black hair, neatly combed off his forehead. His full, pink lips were parted in a surprised smile, that showed an entire mouth of perfectly straight, ivory teeth. He was wearing dark jeans and a maroon blazer over a black sweater, that made him look like he either tried very hard to make casual look high class or put no effort into a high class look. Either way, Draco was mesmerized. So mesmerized in fact, that he almost didn’t hear him talking.

“Excuse me, didn’t mean to get in your way.” As he said this, his eyes traced lazily over Draco’s frame, making him feel entirely too exposed, especially since he was still basically in this man’s arms. He quickly stood and smoothed out his sweater. “Though, maybe I did. Hi, I’m Duncan.”

The rest of the night was a blur. He and Duncan talked for hours, throwing back drink after drink, laughing at stupid things, and learning everything about each other. All the while, Draco’s eyes never left Duncan’s. Duncan taught him how to play pool well, and beat him four times. They found out they had grown up within a rather short walk of each other, and they flirted shamelessly for hours. It was as if the threat Draco felt walking here was non-existent. And yes, this man was a Muggle, but he didn’t care. He was fairly certain he had never wanted anyone as much in his life as he did this man. At quarter past two, they were the last ones in the bar, and Duncan was tracing lazy patterns with his fingers on Draco’s arm. 

“Draco, it truly has been a pleasure being with you tonight. Of all the bars in London, I’m so glad you stumbled into this one,” Duncan said, his voice low and suggestive.

Suddenly, instinct took over. Draco reached out, put a hand behind Duncan’s neck, and pulled this virtual stranger’s lips to his. The kiss was desperate and hungry.It had been a long time since Draco had last been with anyone, and the pent up frustration of the last week combined with the close proximity of this gorgeous man was just too much. Duncan wasted no time returning the favor. His hand slipped to the small of Draco’s back and pulled their bodies so tightly together that not even air could pass between the two. His other hand tangled into Draco’s white blonde hair, tugging ever so slightly with desire. It only took a moment for Draco to feel just how much Duncan was enjoying the kiss. As his lips parted, he slipped his tongue inside to feel those perfect teeth and explore the hot, wet depths of his mouth. As Draco caught the other man’s full lower lip between his teeth, he heard a small whimper followed immediately by a low moan. He could do this all night, bite and lick and tease, until they both dissolved into a lustful puddle. But Duncan had other ideas.

“Come back to my place,” Duncan whispered the statement against Draco’s lips in a way that was halfway between a question and a demand. It made a tense heat shoot straight from Draco's lips to right between his legs. A moment later, Draco was following this man home, glad to have finally found a release for his tension, as well as the most unforgettable night he had had in ages.  
________________________________________________________________________  
Present Time

When Draco awoke in the morning, he found his head to be throbbing. It had been a very late night out with Pansy, given that she had wanted to know everything there was to know about this new man Draco was seeing. After going home with him the first night, they had been together near constantly. Draco even got out the cell phone Pansy had gotten him because he wanted to tell her all about his new man, and didn’t want to wait for an owl. Needless to say, she had demanded to see Draco immediately. So, he reluctantly called Duncan to tell him he could not go out that night, which was received with a sad but understanding acceptance, and a promise to see each other tomorrow. And then, not twenty minutes later, he and Pansy were in London. He told her all about Duncan. How he was an editor for a publishing company, how he had lived all over the world at different phases of his life, and how he insisted on taking Draco on lavish dates to posh restaurants. When he left out was the mind blowing sex they had been having for days and the way he felt nearly addicted to his hands. He remembered swearing he was in love at some point, at which Pansy laughed and ordered more alcohol.

The last thing he remembered clearly from the night was ordering a sixth firewhisky and coke, while Pansy ordered them another round of some brightly colored shot that was enchanted to look as if there was color changing glitter inside. It wasn’t until the next morning that Draco realized the shot probably had tequila in it. After that shot, the night was essentially a blank, but he was vaguely sure that had been multiple glittery shots. Damn tequila. Though he did remember having a wonderful dream of Duncan taking care of him and putting him to bed. With these warm thoughts and his even warmer bed, he almost slipped right back asleep. Just as the haze began to form around the corners of his mind, he realized something was off. The energy in the apartment was familiar, but not the same, as if someone else was there. Just as he was about to write it off as paranoia, he heard someone walking in what sounded to be the kitchen. Another moment later, he heard what sounded to be… hissing? No, not hissing, sizzling. But his head hurt way too much to attempt to figure out what it was. Instead he silently slipped into his pajamas, grabbed his wand, and headed for the door to his room. Whoever was in his apartment would never know what hit them.

As he slammed opened the door into the entirely too bright for a hangover main room, he pointed his wand towards a bewildered looking Harry Potter. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demanded, not lowering his wand.

“Well good morning to you too, bloody bastard. Thought you could use some breakfast considering the sad state I found you in last night.” Potter peered at him, apparently scanning him for damages. “And if those cracked lips and puffy eyes are any indication, I was right.”

Draco didn’t know what to say. He was still groggy from not enough sleep, and his hangover was making him feel his pulse throughout his body. So instead of responding, he simply lowered his wand and sat on the couch. The two stayed in silence for the next five minutes, as Draco, unsuccessfully, tried to figure out when the bloody hell Potter had gotten here last night. Not long later, there was a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and country style potatoes in front of him. Draco wasn’t even sure how, because he was certain he didn’t have any of these things. He mumbled out a small thanks as he began shoveling food into his mouth.

“I hope you like scrambled. You weren’t awake so I couldn’t exactly ask you,” Potter said, his voice sounding somewhere between annoyed and amused.

“They’re my favorite.” Shit. Why did he just tell him that? “Not that it really matters, I just needed food.” Shit. Shouldn’t have said that either. His hangover was making him entirely too honest.

But Potter just laughed a bit, before eating his own identical plate. They sat in silence until all the food was gone and he had cleared their plates to a sink of soapy water. Now that Draco had food in his stomach, his brain had begun to think clearly and he realized that everything about this situation was entirely too bizarre for his liking. It was time to get to the bottom if this.

“You didn’t answer my question before,” Draco demanded, “Why the fuck are you in my apartment?” His voice lacked the edge he heard it with in his own mind.

Potter rolled his eyes before responding. “Someone told me that you were in danger. Clearly, you have been having entirely too much fun to be in danger since I last saw you. Your front door was wide open!” His voice sounded hurt, though Draco could hardly understand why.

Draco felt his cheeks flush to an unattractive shade of pink. “So I went out for a few drinks with Pans last night. Just because you don’t know how to have fun doesn’t mean I don’t?”

“But there is someone trying to kill you!” Harry yelled, much louder than was necessary for the small room, and much to the protest of his throbbing headache.

Draco didn’t dignify this with an answer, but instead got up and began rummaging in his cupboards, looking for a hangover potion. finding it quickly, he downed it in one gulp and immediately felt the tension began to subside around his temples. After Potter yelled at him, Draco noticed an obvious shift in Potter’s demeanor. He had been quiet far longer than normal, as if there was something that he wasn't saying, something that Draco suspected he didn’t want to hear.

“Hey, Malfoy?” Potter said, questioningly. Draco couldn’t help but notice how his unlikely companion was staring at his feet and fidgeting with his hands. This was bound to end badly. “Who is Duncan?”

Draco felt his blood freeze in place and his heart stop beating. For reasons he could not yet explain, this was the last thing he wanted to talk right now. Especially with Potter. Yes, Draco may fancy men, but it was none of Potter’s damn business. And yet, somehow, inexplicitly, he knew this name. Draco realized he might be in more trouble than he initially thought he was. He decided to keep his answer short, simple, and to the point.

“He is someone I have been seeing.” Yes, that answer will work fine, as long as Potter didn’t try to pry any deeper.

Potter looked shocked, and almost mad. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the savior of the Wizarding world would be the person to have a problem with the fact that Draco was gay.

Harry stood there for several minutes, stupidly opening and closing his mouth, as if he had something to say but couldn’t formulate the words. When he finally let sound escape his lips, the words were no more intelligent than his actions had been. “Oh.” This was his only response before he rapidly changed the subject, much to Draco’s relief. “So, anyways, about the threat…” His voice trailed off, clearly hoping Draco would follow suit.

“Yes, you said someone gave you a warning? Why you?” Draco asked, sounding more eager than he actually felt about the subject. Anything to steer them away from the subject of Duncan.

“Oh yeah, well, they told me to stay away from you and knew I had been protecting you. Has anything happened since I left you here?” Harry asked.

“They threatened you? Of all people. As if you have any sway over my life,” Draco commented, agitated that these people thought Potter to have enough ties to his life to be worth threatening. Honestly, just because he had saved his life twice now, didn’t mean the prat was important to him. Even still, this news did worry him. “Actually, the other day, I did feel like I was being watched.”

“Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?” His tone was upset but also wrought with worry. Though he could not explain why, this made Draco’s chest tighten and his heart race. He didn’t think he liked it. “Malfoy, I know you don’t like it but I really think you should come with me. The house you were in is safe and untraceable-”

“Okay,” Draco interjected quietly. He did not like conceding, especially to him, but even he had to admit that he hadn’t felt as safe since coming home. For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy was admitting that he needed Potter’s help.

At the sound of his agreement, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. No sound, no movement, just the look of pure, unadulterated shock spread across his features. It was easily a minute before either spoke or even moved. “Did you just agree with me?” 

“Yes, alright?” Draco agreed, begrudgingly. “I would rather be in a home with dozens of charms then in one with only my spells to protect it. Even if that means being stuck with you. I am a Slytherin after all, I only make sacrifices if I know they will be of the most benefit to me.”

Potter smartly said little in return, aside from a small smile and agreeing to help him pack. Draco didn’t like admitting defeat, but since he woke up today he had the oddest feeling, like a buzzing in his head, that someone was nearby that wanted him dead. And an alive Malfoy with a sodding Gryffindor was better than a dead one. A half hour later the two men exited the apartment, with two small bags of all of Draco’s belongings in tow.

Little did either know of them notice the woman, lurking in the nearby shadows, cursing to herself. Tonight would not be the night she would get him. He had gotten away again. But not for long. No. Now she had a way to guarantee that, sooner or later, she would find him. And then, he would pay.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry was shocked when Malfoy agreed to come with him. Ten years ago he would have never believed that Draco Malfoy, his nemesis since entering the Wizarding world, would allow himself to fall under the protection of Harry Potter. If the situation wasn't so grave, he would use this as blackmail. Yet, as it were, the situation was grave. Harry was getting threats, felt like he was being followed, and was willingly harboring the one person that he knew for sure was a target. Harboring him for the second time in fact. Harry shook his head and sighed. Sometimes he hated the fact that he was a Gryffindor. Were he a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff – or heaven forbid, a Slytherin – he would have heeded the warning and not gone off to rescue a man he despised. Granted, he probably wouldn't have even landed himself in this situation were he anything but a Gryffindor. But, here he was, helping the insolent git pack his few belongings into bags before heading back to his godfather’s home.

Oh, Sirius and Lupin. How was he going to mention this to them? They had been none too thrilled the last time he brought Malfoy back to their townhouse and something told him this was going to be no different. Realistically though, Grimmauld Place was his only option. The wards there were strong, even before the war. There was no other choice if he wanted to keep the bastard safe. As much as Harry had wanted rid of him throughout school, there was something about a world without the insufferable ass that just seemed wrong. Luckily, Lupin wouldn’t be home right now. Generally, when it was this close to a full moon, Remus would make himself scarce. Harry wasn’t sure where he went, but he respected his mentor’s privacy enough to not ask. No, it would just be Sirius that Harry had to deal with initially, and it was much easier to get his godfather to see things his way than anyone else.

Shaking his head, he focused on helping Malfoy pack. Harry had initially suggested they not take much, which earned him a sneer in response, and now he knew why. Not taking much would be easy seeing as there wasn’t much here. Some books, a small dresser of clothes, and a handful of knick-knacks that he recognized from Professor Snape’s classroom seemed to be all that was here. Harry couldn’t help but frown at the realization. This small apartment, this little stuff, was a far cry from the high life he knew the other boy typically enjoyed. Though he did feel it was about time Malfoy be knocked down a few pegs, Harry knew better than most what it was like to live with less than a person needed. It was hard to believe that Draco Malfoy, darling of Slytherin, heir to the Malfoy throne, and spoiled brat would live like this on purpose. Though he decided to let the thought die wordlessly in his mind, if just to save the first and inevitable screaming match for later this afternoon.

A few minutes and a half dozen books later, he noticed that Malfoy was done. “Alright, ready to go?”

Malfoy nodded, and mumbled what sounded like a yes. Harry rolled his eyes at Malfoy’s clear lack of enthusiasm. The tension in the air was nearly palpable, and he had to stop himself from groaning in response as they took their leave.

Upon arrival, Harry felt a general sense of tranquility, despite his companion, the second he walked through the front door. Something about being here, with the all too familiar smell of dust in the air and the floorboards whose every creak he knew by heart, felt like coming home. It certainly helped when they learned to silence the portrait of Sirius’ mother and removed the elf heads from the walls. Yes, in the years since the war, this place had truly become the first real home he had ever had. The Dursley's always felt constricting and made him feel like he didn’t belong, and even Hogwarts wasn’t perfect, though it came close. There was something about having a safe place to come back to with people he loved that was unlike anything he had ever known. Today, it certainly helped make up for the fact that he was being forced by his own morals to bring a selfish, spoiled, prejudiced prat into his sanctuary.  
“Well, this is it,” Harry stated, flatly.

“I’m aware, I was here a few weeks ago, remember?” Draco said, punctuated with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Harry wished he had thought about his words before handing Malfoy a loaded gun. That’s what you get for being lost in your own thoughts. “Well, why don’t I give you the tour?” Even if he didn’t like the situation, it couldn’t hurt to at least try to get along. Merlin knows how long they were going to be stuck together.

“Oh yes, lets. Seems like a perfectly acceptable way to kill say—” Draco looked around, sizing up his surroundings, “—five minutes or so,” He finished, nose high in the air.

Right. So I guess the getting along bit is out. “Whatever Malfoy, do you want to see where you are going to be staying until their isn’t a target on your back or not?” Harry snapped, turning to walk up the stairs. Though his unwilling housemate huffed loudly at the comment, he simply gave a curt nod and followed Harry up the grand staircase lined with portraits. “You’re going to be staying on the second floor. There’s an empty room there and a bathroom across the hall. The first floor, as I’m sure you remember, contains the drawing room and a small potions kitchen, along with a bathroom. The floor above you is the master bedroom when Sirius lives, and Remus is in the bedroom next to that. I am going to be staying on the top floor. Normally that would be the guest room, but seeing as you will be here it looks like I’ll be staying awhile so that my godfather doesn’t have to babysit annoying Slytherins.”

“And to think, I thought he would be used to it. At least the annoying part. Where are the Weasel and the Mudblood anyway? Don’t feel like making fun of poor, pathetic Malfoy being saved by Saint Potter?” Malfoy asked, with narrowed eyes and voice dripping with contempt.

Harry cringed at the word, but otherwise ignored the nasty term.. He would not be baited. “They don’t know you’re here.” If Malfoy was surprised, Harry wasn’t sure because he refused to turn and see the other boy’s face. They continued in silence until they reached the bedroom. Harry unceremoniously dropped Malfoy’s bag on the floor. “This will be your room. The ground floor has the formal dining room along with a study and the basement has the kitchen and informal dining area, as you also know. That’s it, aside from a storage attic. Personally, I would just stick to this room, the bathrooms, the drawing room, and the kitchen. My godfather doesn’t like people snooping.”

“Don’t worry, Potter. I have about as much interest in wandering these halls as I do in being/becoming a Hufflepuff.”

Harry cracked a small smile despite himself. “Oh, and the washroom is at the end of the hall, first door on your left. You seem like you could use a shower.” For some reason, thinking of this made his face immediately go scarlet. 

Draco had clearly noticed as he cocked his eyebrow up, the corners of his lips turning into a twisted smile. “Interesting of you to notice. I didn’t peg The Boy Who Lived as a bloody ponce.”

“Sod off Malfoy, I just meant you smell like piss.” He knew his rebuttal sounded hollow, but he didn’t care. Harry didn’t bother to wait for a response before stalking out of the room, hearing the snickers follow him out the door. Any embarrassment he felt a minute before at the idea of Malfoy showering was instantly replaced with anger.

As Harry stormed down the stairs, he heard the sound of the front door closing, and prayed it was Sirius. As he got to the first floor landing though, he realized he was wrong. This had instantly gotten more difficult. “Remus, I didn’t expect you, what with the full moon so close.”

Remus smiled up at him, unfazed. “Nonsense Harry. The full moon is still a couple of days away, I’ve been taking my Wolfsbane potion correctly, and Sirius has been helping me here the last few months. Though I will say, it is disappointing to see you so unhappy to see me,” he said, with a slight smile playing at the edges of his lips.

Harry hadn’t realized until that moment that he had been scowling. He immediately relaxed his face and went to give his mentor a hug. “No, I’m very happy to see you. Just surprised is all.” He quickly glanced up the stairs. “Also I need to speak with you, right away.”

Remus’ small smile quickly fell, hearing the serious tone of the words, as he ushered Harry down into the kitchen. A swish of the wand later, and they were both enshrouded in silence. As soon as the spell was in place, Harry recounted the events of the last couple of days, leaving out most of the bits at Malfoy’s apartment, though blushing slightly when he thought of it. There were some things that he didn’t feel needed to be shared.

“So you see, I just really didn’t know what else to do other than to take him here. I know he’s a prat, but I couldn’t just let him die. When Snape was dying, he asked me to make sure that I saved his godson. I know that was five years ago, but I still feel like it’s my duty, when I have the opportunity, to grant him his dying wish. He saved my life.” Harry knew he was rambling, but recounting everything that had happened was putting him more than a little on edge.

“I am perfectly aware of what Severus told you,” Remus replied, thankfully seeming less upset than Harry would have imagined. “Had I been in your shoes, I probably would have done the same thing. Though, it does seem odd how much of an interest you have taken in young Mr. Malfoy as of late. Are you sure there is nothing else you want to talk to me about? Perhaps, some new feelings that you don’t necessarily understand?”

‘Oh do you mean that I didn’t mind my enemy flirting with me? Or the fact that I keep noticing how well Malfoy has grown up? Or the fact that I dreamed about him all last night? Or the fact that I was jealous when I found out he was sleeping with - no, seeing - someone named Duncan? The fact that my heart did a cartwheel when I realized he liked guys? No, nothing to talk about at all. No new feelings. I am perfectly normal.’ Harry screamed inside his mind, adding to the ruckus of confusing thoughts already flying around in there. “What do you mean Remus? I’m fine, just following a dying man’s wishes.” If the older man heard the hesitation or lack of conviction in Harry’s voice, he thankfully didn’t mention it.

Lupin took a long moment before speaking again, his words seeming very carefully chosen. “I just want you to know, Harry, that if there ever is anything you need to talk about, I am here. I know I am not your father, but you are family to me, and I accept and love you no matter who you are.” The other man’s eyes held a slight twinkle that he couldn’t place, but decided he didn’t really have the energy to try. “Besides, maybe when you open up you will find you are not as alone as you probably feel.”

“Thanks Remus, I appreciate that a lot,” Harry said, trying to decipher what he meant by that last part. “I think I’m going to head upstairs now. I’m wiped and still in my clothes from yesterday.”

Receiving a small nod in response. Harry quickly went toward his room. He needed a long, hot shower to try to clear his mind of this fog that has been clouding his mind since saving Malfoy’s life a few weeks ago. He ascended the stairs nearly two at a time, wanting to distance himself from the echo of Remus’ words. No matter how understanding his dear mentor was, he knew that this was something he would never understand. Harry barely understood.

A few steps before the second floor landing, Harry happened to look up, and instantly wished he hadn’t. Coming out of the bathroom was a very wet, and very much half naked Malfoy. Harry quickly pressed himself into the shadows of the nearby wall, trying to peel his eyes away from the magnificent sight in front of him.

Draco was tall and lean, this much Harry had always known. But there was so much a person couldn’t see from behind school robes or casual wear. Draco’s back was clearly defined, with broad shoulders and defined shoulder blades. From there his spine arched down, creasing slightly in the center and ending with two small dimples just above the hem of the towel wrapped loosely around his waist. As he reached an arm up to dry his hair, Harry noticed that the blonde’s arms were long and defined. Though not covered in muscle like most of the men in the Quidditch locker room, they looked strong and firm. He wondered if they felt as solid as they looked. But what Harry couldn’t stop staring at was the other man’s skin. From top to bottom was a creamy alabaster that almost seemed to glow, without a single freckle, blemish, or imperfection. It was as if he was a sculpture, and Harry suddenly found himself very much wanting to draw a finger down the line of Draco’s spine if just to see if it was really as smooth as it looked.

Before he realized Malfoy had moved, the door slammed behind him with a loud whack that shook Harry out of his trance. What the hell had he been thinking? And why the fuck had he just stood there and stared? This was Draco Bloody Malfoy. And not only that, this was a guy! Harry most certainly didn’t fancy men. He was sure anyone would notice the way drops of water from Malfoy’s soaked locks wound their way between the taut muscles of his shoulder before slipping down below the line of his towel. That was totally normal. And the rush of blood to his cheeks and between his legs was just a result of his nervousness. Wasn’t it?

Harry shook his head and deliberately pushed the images of Draco out of his head. He was sure it was just his lack of good sleep lately that was causing him to react to things so strangely. Pushing the moment out of his head, he continued up to his temporary room, and collapsed on the bed. Sleep came fast enough that he didn’t notice his dreams going back to a certain Slytherin in a certain towel.

A few hours later, Harry found himself in the kitchen, staring into a fridge of food he wasn’t interested in. He knew he should be starving considering how long it had been since he had last eaten, but nothing sounded particularly appealing. Sighing loudly, he instead reached into the freezer and grabbed the one thing he knew he wanted: the bottle of firewhisky. It had been a long day, and he was not in the mood to go through any more of it sober. So, he grabbed a tumbler front the cabinet and took it and the bottle to one of the chairs in front of the fire.

He was just finishing his second glass when he heard a set of footfalls on the stairs behind him that he was beginning to recognize as Malfoy’s. As the blonde descended into the room, he smiled to himself for guessing correctly.

Harry watched as Malfoy went through similar motions to what he had just done. Walking to the fridge, opening and starring in, shoulders rising dramatically in a big sigh, freezer opening followed by another sigh, and then going back to the fridge. Harry couldn’t help but snicker quietly, somehow knowing Draco wouldn’t find anything he was interested in. He quietly sauntered over to one of the chairs at the large island near the fridge. “Care for a drink Malfoy, since you’re having about as much luck finding dinner as I did?” Harry asked, not even trying to hide the smile that split his face.

Malfoy turned with a start, looking at Harry in momentary shock, before his perfect mask snapped back into place. Harry rolled his eyes, and held out the bottle. The other boy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, before taking the bottle and grabbing a glass. Still he didn’t reply. Not that Harry cared. The effect of the two glasses was making him pleasantly dizzy and he found that he didn’t mind being the one to breach the silence between them. “So’s your room alright? Comfortable enough?”

Draco’s eyebrow quirked up, sizing up the situation. He took a long swig of his drink before moving to sit in the only other stool at the island, which happened to be right next to Harry. “I suppose it will have to do, since I’m stuck here.”

Harry didn’t respond to the condescending tone as he poured himself a third glass. “Well that’s good. I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but you should at least be comfortable here.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Malfoy already finishing his first glass and reaching to fill it again.

For a few minutes they sat in pleasant silence, as Harry smiled at the gentle buzz in his head and the way his limbs were beginning to feel weightless. Every now and again he would feel Malfoy’s gaze on him, but he didn’t care. Surprisingly it was Malfoy who next broke the silence in the room after each man had filled their glass once again.

“So,” Malfoy started, as he spun his stool around and rested his back on the counter, “how long do you expect me to be holed up here?” His words lacked their typical edge, making Harry glance upward. The typical Malfoy mask had begun to slip as the whisky took hold.

“I’m not sure really. I hadn’t gotten much farther in my plan than the get-you-here phase.” Harry laughed loudly, feeling the sound bounce off the walls. He took another long swig of his drink. “Why, miss your boyfriend?” He didn’t even try to hide the smirk that crossed his face. The faint blush spreading over Draco’s face was well worth any retribution he was about to receive.

“For your information, Potter, Duncan is not my boyfriend.” Malfoy’s icy tone was in stark contrast with the heat radiating from his cheeks. “I have simply been seeing him for a few weeks, not that it’s any of your business who I’m shagging.” With the last statement, he turned and looked Harry dead in the eyes. Draco’s stormy grey eyes were boring straight into him, and Harry couldn’t help wanting to get lost in them.

Harry quickly coughed, shook his head and looked away. That was just the alcohol talking, it had to be. He laughed out loud at his silliness, making Malfoy look confused, before responding. “You’re right, it’s none of my business. Though it did become a bit more my business when you were trying to get me in your bed thinking I was him.” Harry threw back the rest of his drink, enjoying seeing how many different shades of crimson Malfoy’s cheeks were capable of becoming. He put his head into his hands and moaned, making Harry to laugh again. “Not that I wasn’t flattered.” The words were out before he could stop them, and instantly his cheeks began to burn.

Draco’s head snapped up. Now it was his turn to smirk at Harry, as he slid a little too close for comfort next to him. They were so close that they almost touched. “Oh really now? You were flattered? Well then, that explains why you were always so obsessed with me in school. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Harry got up and walked to the other side of the island, trying to force himself to breathe. Having Malfoy that close was disconcerting. There was no world in which Harry had wanted to know that Draco smelled slightly spicy, like cardamom and cinnamon. Whether from the drink, the smell, or the proximity, Harry was suddenly feeling very warm. “Piss off Malfoy, you know it was a joke. Only one of us is a poof.” He busied himself with getting ice from the freezer for his drink. That was sure to cool him.

Draco laughed in a way Harry had never seen before, with closed eyes, his head fell back and a genuine smile spread across his face. Malfoy was clearly laughing at how ridiculous Harry was acting, but he found he didn’t mind. The warm sound was so pleasant it filled the room and before Harry knew it, he was laughing too. When their laughs finally died down, Harry looked over at Draco and saw him truly smiling, unlike the practiced sneer he always wore in school. This smile went straight to his eyes, lending a sparkle to the grey that Harry decided he definitely wanted to see more of.

“Sorry, Malfoy. I really don’t care if you like, erm, blokes. And you’re right. It isn’t any of my business. I guess I was just, I dunno, surprised? In school I always saw you with Pansy Parkinson and other girls. I had no idea you were, erm, gay,” Harry stammered, not sure how to talk about this with his onetime rival.

Again Malfoy laughed, though not as fully as before. “Back then, neither did I. Not really. Though I will say I had suspicions.” Draco looked over at Harry with a look that he couldn’t read before continuing. “It wasn’t until a rather unfortunate party that I really had to admit it to myself.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously, wondering if Malfoy would elaborate. As he studied the blonde’s face, he noticed it start to turn red again, as he downed another drink. Harry’s wasn’t sure how many they had had—maybe six by this point?

Malfoy took a deep breath and then continued. “Well since you aren’t going to ask, I’ll just tell you. There was a party with all the guys in the Slytherin common room one night in fifth year. Merlin knows what we were celebrating, but someone snuck in tequila. That was the first time I ever had it. I don’t remember much, but the next day I woke up with a very naked Malcolm Baddock in someone else’s bed. Thankfully I was the first person awake and no one had noticed, so I was able to sneak back to my bed with no one the wiser. I broke up with Pansy the next day.” Draco looked over at Harry nervously, but smiled when he saw Harry holding back a laugh. “It’s not funny! She nearly killed me when I told her a few years later.”

Harry balked slightly before laughing and coming back to sit in the stool. “You waited years to tell the poor girl! That’s just cruel.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “It was two years before I told anyone. Though that story may even be more embarrassing than the first, which means you are not going to get to hear it.”

Harry reached over for the bottle of firewhisky and filled both of their glasses again. “I’m not so sure you’ll be saying that in a few more drinks.” Draco simply smiled in response. “I have an idea. How about if I tell you something embarrassing, help level the playing field?”

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow up, but otherwise didn’t reply. Harry sighed loudly, knowing he would have to put himself out there if he wanted to hear the rest of the other’s story. “Try this one on for size. That same year that you shagged Baddock, I was busy getting my first kiss. Those usually don’t go great for anyone but mine was a special kind of awful. That year I had had a huge thing for Cho Chang, if you remember her. Unfortunately though, she was still mourning Cedric. One night we were talking about him and she was crying. Then there was mistletoe and all of a sudden we were kissing.” Harry chuckled at the memory. “I remember describing it to Ron and Hermione later as being wet. Unfortunately that was from her tears, not from anything more exciting.”

Malfoy grinned menacingly, “You’re right Potter. That was embarrassing.” 

They both laughed again, causing Harry to almost spill his drink. He realized he should probably stop drinking, but he was enjoying himself too much to care. “I know what you mean. Amazingly she still managed to go on a date with me. One date. In fact, the date was more disastrous than the kiss. We managed to argue about Hermione, talk about Cedric, and had your good friend Pansy tell her how unworthy I was. Needless to say, that was the last time I went out with her. I spent most of the date uncomfortable anyways.” Harry shifted nervously in his seat, not sure why he was saying so much.

Draco paused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, so that it caught the light and reflected specks of light all over his face. It wasn’t until Harry heard Malfoy’s voice that he realized he had been staring. “I tried to kiss Blaise Zabini.”

Harry nearly choked on his drink. “You what?” Harry stammered out in shock.

Draco looked at him briefly, before going back to swirling his cup. “Yeah, that’s basically the face he had when it happened. It was one night after graduation, and he and I had gone around the world to celebrate our new-found freedom. He was actually the first person I told I was gay. We were in Ireland at the time and got to talking and I told him the real reason I broke up with Pansy. He had a good laugh and told me it was no big deal, he was still my best friend. We went on with the trip like it was no big deal. We had made our way to Mexico by this point and I had been drinking tequila again. You would think after the last incident I would have learned, but clearly I hadn’t. A few hours and a few drinks later, I decided to dance. He got up and we were dancing, not exactly together but near each other, and I snapped. I reached over, grabbed his arm, and tried to kiss him. Technically I guess I did kiss him, but in the way one might kiss a brick wall. Needless to say, it did not go over well. He freaked out, I panicked, and I haven’t seen him since. That was the day two things happened. It was the day I came out and the day I decided I would never drink tequila again.”

Harry was silent at the revelation. Really what could he say? After a bit of awkward silence, Malfoy once again was the one to break it. “It’s really not a big deal though. That was a long time ago. Now I’m totally comfortable with who I am. Don’t go out much though. Not many willing to go for a marked Death Eater. Not something I imagine you would understand, Chosen One status and all.”

Harry shrugged. “You would be surprised. I haven’t been on a proper date in ages. Never know if someone is interested in me or my ‘status’ as you said.”

Draco’s eyebrows both raised in surprise. “Really? I thought at least the female Weasel was interested. You certainly seemed chummy in school. It’s a damn shame you can’t even use your name to get some tail.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. If only he knew. “Ginny and I did date. She is a great girl and like a sister to me. Would have never worked, even if we did play for the same team, if you know what I mean.” This seemed to peek the other boy’s curiosity, though Harry had no plans to elaborate. “As for your other accusation, all I said is I hadn’t had a proper date in ages. No one ever said anything about action.”

Malfoy gave a soft snort and rolled his eyes, before downing the last of his drink. “Well, it seems you certainly have grown up, Potter.”

Harry smiled slightly at the statement. “I think that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me. In fact, I’m decently sure this is the longest conversation we have had without you threatening me or calling one of my friends something nasty.”

“I’ll try not to make a habit of it.” Draco replied, though his words seemed less than sincere.

“Maybe we should. I mean, we are both going to be cooped up here for Merlin knows how long, maybe we could try getting along for once. Assuming you can go that long without being a total prat.” Harry smiled a bit, just enough to show he meant no harm.

Malfoy nodded in agreement. “That’s not a half bad idea, assuming you can go that long without being a complete git.” Draco smiled again, and this time Harry’s stomach did a somersault and he gave a quick nod. It was definitely time to stop drinking.

As he went to set his glass down, his arm slid straight across Draco’s. Harry immediately froze, eyes glued to the exposed skin of their forearms pressed gently against each other. Draco’s skin was impossibly warm, and the heat seemed to be sinking directly into Harry making his skin tingle in a not entirely unpleasant and more than a little intoxicating way. Harry noticed that Draco too hadn’t made an attempt to move, and he snuck a peek up. Draco’s eyes were glued on Harry, and the cool grey made him feel utterly exposed, and still he could not move. The moment probably only lasted seconds, but to Harry it seemed to stretch forever. Then, without warning, Draco moved away.

“Um, I should probably go to bed. Long day, very tired.” Malfoy uncharacteristically ran a hand through his hair. Harry absently wondered if the strands were as silky as they looked.

“Yeah, um, that’s true. Sleep is, erm, probably a good idea.” He looked up at the clock and realized it was almost three in the morning. “It is getting late. You should head up.”

“What about you? Are you staying up?” Malfoy questioned.

“Not for long, I, um…” His voice trailed off trying to come up with something, when he noticed their glasses. “I’m just going to clean up a bit.”

Malfoy didn’t look like he believed him, but gave quick nod anyways. “Alright then.” He turned to leave.

As Harry watched him go, he realized he suddenly didn’t want Draco to go. “Hey Malfoy?” He called after him.

“Yeah?” Draco turned quickly back to him, an almost hopeful look on his face. As he did, Harry suddenly imagined rushing up to him, and pulling him into a deep kiss that he was certain he would never describe as simply wet. He saw their lips crashing together, breathing hard, and being pressed up against the wall as his hands went to Draco’s back and found those two dimples at the base of his spine he had seen earlier that day. Harry shook his head and looked Draco straight in the eyes. “Goodnight Draco.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he imagined the look of disappointment in the other boy’s eyes, before his mask snapped partially back into place. On top of the mask, an easy smile slip into place across the lips Harry was determined to not look at any more tonight. “Goodnight.” And with that Malfoy slipped from the room.

As soon as he was gone, Harry poured himself another glass and slid down into the armchair by the fire. Staring at the dancing flames he had to admit something to himself that he had been dancing around for entirely too long. He was dangerously attracted to Draco Malfoy.


	11. Chapter 11

_ It's a beautiful day, with the sun shining brightly through the bare winter trees, as Draco strolls along the winding paths of his family garden. As always, the petals of his favorite purple roses are in full bloom with their bright silver edges sending sparkles scattering over every available surface. The pale lilac of his roses stands out against the backdrop of crisp, white, freshly fallen snow. Yet, despite being in his favorite place in the world, he can feel that something's wrong. He isn't sure if it's his imagination, but he thinks he hears screaming coming from inside. Then, like ice water in his veins, he realizes, it's her. Without thinking, his legs begin to propel him forward. He has to get to her, he has to protect her. Then, to add to his growing panic, his left arm begins to sear with pain. The Dark Lord. But he can't stop now, otherwise, he won't be able to save her. As his arm throbs in pain, he throws open the doors to the Manor to try to find her. He has to find her. Upon entering, he spots his mother. Taking a few tentative steps forward, he sees that she's crying, and he knows why. The Dark Lord is here. Without a second thought, he sprints down the nearest hall to the long stretch of rooms, at the end of which he knows he will find her. Another scream pierces the air, the only sound aside from Draco's frantic footfalls and his own heavy breathing. Despite how fast he is running, the door never seems to get any closer. As he runs, time begins to slow around him, and no matter how hard he pushes he can't go any faster. With ten feet left to go, the entire hallway lights up an all too familiar green. He knew he's too late. Reaching the door he throws it open and sees her cold, silver eyes… _

 

'Cassie!" Draco yelled out. She was gone, had been for years, but the dream still plagued him many nights. He didn't even bother trying to figure out where he was or what time it was. Without thinking, he pulled his legs up tightly to his chest and cried until his eyes went dry. It wasn't fair, and he was honestly beginning to think things would never be okay. Not that he deserved for them to. Often he wished the Dark Lord had taken him instead of her. After lying in bed for what felt like an eternity, he realized he had to get up and start the day. Casting a quick Tempus, he saw that it was well after ten in the morning. He groaned inwardly. Moping around and feeling sorry for himself all day wouldn't bring her back. Besides, she would want better for him than that. With a large breath, he pushed himself up and swung his legs to the floor.

 

Looking at the calendar on the wall, he realized that it was already Saturday the 25th of October. He had been in the Black House for a week. Most of his time since arriving had been spent reading, wandering the large home, and working on his article. It was called "Ancient Tome of Horrors," one of the more ridiculous pieces he had come up with. The great thing about his job was that, as long as he could fabricate some kind of data on the subject and it had an interesting title, the magazine would publish it. It certainly beat any career his father would have dreamed up for him. There were times that he wished he could contribute more to the world than bullshit stories that only the most pathetically gullible witches and wizards believed, but he knew he wasn't good enough to be something more. Even if he wanted to, the public was never going to embrace an ex-Death Eater.

 

Despite having next to nothing to do this week, there had been a whirlwind of activity happening around him. Every other day he was being ushered upstairs due to some big, secret meeting in the basement with some important someone-or-other. Though he assumed they were talking about things like the attempt on his life and the Dark Collective, for all he knew they could be discussing the latest trends in ladies' hats. Either way, it was all fairly boring to him. But he supposed boring was better than dead.

 

Then there was the other matter weighing heavily on his mind. His most recent late night encounter with his host. Most of the week, Potter had been out of the house or locked away in these covert meetings. When he was around he spent a lot of time talking with Sirius or in his room. If Draco didn't know any better, he would think he was being ignored or avoided. Not that he would be surprised. The other night had been interesting, to say the least. And since he didn't have anything better to do, most of his free time had been spent mulling over what had happened.

 

His first day there had been frustrating. This was honestly the last place he wanted to be, but he also knew he had no other choice. His pride made the help difficult to accept, but he was grateful that at least someone was looking out for him for a change. After his argument with Potter the morning he arrived, he had taken a shower and then lay on his bed. He wasn't sure when he drifted off, but the next thing he knew it was quite dark and the silence of the house pressed in tightly around him. Feeling his stomach cramp up, he realized he again hadn't eaten in far too long, so he went back to that kitchen he found during his first stay. Getting there, he didn't even think to look around. He went straight for the refrigerator, in which he found nothing. Just as he was getting ready to give up and go back upstairs, he was jolted by a voice behind him. Hunger had clearly dulled his normally quite astute sense of observation. When he turned around he saw a bright-eyed Potter offering him a bottle of his favorite firewhisky and a genuine smile that made his stomach flip.

 

Looking back now, he probably should have refused. Five years ago he would have laughed straight in his rosy-cheeked face. But this was not five years ago, and he certainly needed the drink. He remembered making Potter blush more than once that evening, which he decided was something he wanted to make happen as often as he could. More than once he found himself honestly laughing and enjoying himself. It had been quite the pleasant surprise. Then, after too many drinks and not enough food, something unexpected happened. Just as the night was coming to a close, Harry's arm had slid down the length of his own. The sensation was unusual yet almost familiar. His skin was warm and sent sparks of electricity throughout his entire body. It was all at once unnerving and addicting. His eyes had immediately locked on Harry.

 

The other man seemed to be frozen, looking at their arms. He waited, wanting to see what Harry would do. In that moment, Draco realized he wouldn't have moved if he could. In fact, he hardly even breathed. In that instant time seemed to slow around him. Though he would never have imagined during school, there was something intoxicating about being that close to this man. Then again, looking back, maybe there always had been. After all, Draco never could seem to stay away, even then. The only thing that shook him from his transfixion was the other man's gaze meeting his own. Harry's eyes were unsettling and made Draco warm with anticipation. Tonight, those eyes were bright and slightly glazed, but there was a fearful uncertainty in them. Yet none of that could detract from how profoundly green they were. Draco suspected that jewelers would be jealous they could not get their emeralds to rival the color Potter hid behind his ridiculous glasses and far too long fringe. It took everything for Draco to not brush the aforementioned hair away from the eyes still boring into him as if seeking an answer to some unaired question

 

In the end, he had been the one to break the spell and look away. When Potter called his name a moment later, there was a moment when he almost thought that some imagined tension was about to snap and send their bodies crashing into each other in a way he definitely had not been dreaming about ever since, but it never did. Instead, Potter simply said good night. Though he would never admit it, that night was one of the most uncomfortable night's sleep he had had since having to control his own urges in the Slytherin dormitory at school.

 

Potter had hardly spoken to him since then, save for a few hellos and good mornings as they passed each other in the halls. Draco shook his head to bring him back to the present day. And as Draco walked out into the hall for his morning shower, the trend continued. Harry was just coming down the stairs and froze. Were Draco in a better mood, he probably would have found it entertaining the way the others eyes slowly registered Draco's bare chest and a faint blush stained his cheeks. As it were, he was not in a good mood, so the normally entertaining look simply made him smirk. "Are you going to keep staring Potter? I have a camera if you'd prefer. I hear pictures last longer."

 

Harry flushed harder at the statement. "I - erm - I mean I wasn't. Oh just sod off, Malfoy," he managed to stammer out, before storming off back down the stairs.

 

Draco snorted as he watched the black hair bound ungracefully down the stairs, each footfall louder than necessary in the otherwise severe silence of the house. Despite the years that had gone by, nothing quite brightened his day as much as riling up Harry Potter, even now. Or maybe, especially now.

 

Forty minutes later, after a very hot shower, he was dressed and ready. Having shaken off much of his temper and the residual hopelessness his nightmares always left behind, he felt more able to face the day. With a sigh, he realized that he should probably go try to be nice to Potter. Friends, he had said. Or at least they needed to get along. Though Draco suspected the idea an impossibility, it couldn't kill him to try. So down he went, in search of the bugger. The last thing he needed was a defensive, moody Potter running around while they lived under the same roof.

 

His first stop was the kitchen, which was surprisingly vacant. After grabbing a shiny green apple from a basket on the counter, he decided to try the sitting room, the parlor, and eventually knocked on his door, all of which came up empty. Lastly, now getting frustrated, he headed for the backyard. He hadn't seen it yet, but he suspected it was rather large if the size of the rest of the house was any indication.

 

Stepping out onto a partially covered terrace, he saw that his expectations were not unfounded. If anything, it was even larger than his suspicions The backyard area was deceptively huge. Just outside the doors was a huge wooden deck with comfortable looking lounge chairs scattered around a large fire pit. The deck had stone stairs that arched down to a beautiful expanse of trees, flowers, and hedges. Throughout the entire grassy area below a small stream wound with water babbling over rocks and ending in a small pond covered with lily pads and reeds. There was also a stone pathway that occasionally bridged over the stream. It was a surprisingly beautiful in its simplicity, and it made his chest slightly ache for the sprawling grounds and lavish gardens of the Manor. He was disappointed he hadn't come outside until now. He had forgotten how good it felt just to be outside.

 

Just as he was getting ready to go down the stairs and explore further, he noticed something moving in the far corner of the grounds, and it made his stomach do a back flip. Strutting out from behind a particularly large hedge was an all too familiar looking hippogriff. The creature seemed to notice him and cocked its head questioningly. Though he told himself he was being ridiculous, he still found himself slowly backing away from the ledge he had been leaning over. As he did, he heard a sound from behind him that sounded suspiciously like snickering. He whipped around ready to tell off whoever was behind him but found the words caught in his throat as he turned around.

 

Potter was leaning against the doorframe, legs crossed at the ankles with one hand firmly on his hip. His lips were pulled into a cocky smirk and his eyes sparkled not so innocently behind his silly glasses. He was wearing a simple grey jumper over dark jeans, and Even Draco had to admit that the man standing in front of him was a far cry from the messy, lanky boy he had been in school. This realization was doing dangerous things to Draco's nerves. He had to physically shake himself out of staring this time. "What's so funny, golden boy?" he quipped, the sound of it falling flat even to his ears.

 

"Good to see Buckbeak can still scare the crap out of you Malfoy. Maybe you haven't grown up as much as I thought," Potter said, voice far too mischievous for Draco's liking.

 

"I'm not scared, you twat. I just don't favor that thing," he said, thrusting a finger roughly toward the winged creature now pecking about the grass, "trying to kill me again."

 

Potter's smiled beamed at Draco, making his breath hitch and sending a warming jolt through his chest that he found himself hard pressed to ignore. "Always the dramatics with you," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Buckbeak is not going to kill you, and he most certainly didn't try to back then."

 

Draco grumbled under his breath a bit before replying quietly. "Still broke my bloody arm, though."

 

Harry snorted in reply. "Yes, I forgot how delicate your poor Malfoy sensibilities are."

 

Draco internally seethed. He had been waiting all week to talk to Potter properly, and this was most certainly not what he had in mind. "Whatever, golden boy. I just can't believe you gave the murderous bird a damn name."

 

Harry rolled his eyes again and chuckled before pushing himself to a fully upright position. "Whatever, prat. First of all, I didn't name him. Hagrid did. Second, I was just coming to tell you that Healer Finnigan is here to check up on you. He's in the parlor with Sirius."

 

"What for? I'm fine," Draco said, puzzled. It had been a month since he had been poisoned. What could he possibly have to check on?

 

"Dunno, you're just going to have to go find out, aren't you?" Harry replied, with a smug grin that did nothing to detract from the attractiveness of his strong features. Draco scowled, noticing this. Perfect Potter even had a perfect face. Bloody git.

 

Draco pushed right past Potter on his way inside, bumping his shoulder a bit harder than was necessary in the process. The combination of sexual frustration and actual irritation had officially made him pissed, but all the action seemed to do to Potter was make him snicker again. Draco sent him a deadly glare in return, but the stupid prat just followed along behind him unaffected. Loudly huffing in exasperation, Draco took the time to attempt to control his features at least before stepping into the parlor to greet the unexpected guest.

 

Upon entering the kitchen, he was surprised by the man he saw. For starters, the Healer in question was much younger than Draco had been expecting. Most he had met were older, portly women who always seemed cross about something. This man was anything but. He was tall and lean with neat brown hair and dark eyes. There was no way he was more than a few years Draco's senior and was actually rather attractive. When the man spotted Draco and Harry, he stopped what he had been saying and flashed them both a small smile. "Ah Mr. Malfoy, it's a pleasure to see you standing this time around," Draco noted he had a rather thick Irish accent. Also, there was something oddly familiar about him that Draco couldn't place.

 

"Yes, I'd have to say I agree. You seem to know me, though I don't know you," Draco drawled.

 

The Healer merely laughed. "You're correct, Mr. Malfoy. Where are my manners? My name is Healer Finnigan, though you may call me Jace."

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Potter's jaw clench and his eyes flash with rage. He wasn't sure why, but Potter didn't seem to like this man. Draco felt a ghost of a smile cross his lips, before snapping his mask into place. Knowing there was someone who got on Potter's nerves apparently more than Draco at the moment was not a detail to be overlooked. "Pleasure. So, Chosen One here tells me you need to check me out?" Draco questioned, feeling Potter glare at the back of his head.

 

Jace smiled with an unreadable look in his eyes that left Draco feeling rather suspicious."You're right, Mr. Malfoy-"

 

"Draco. Just call me Draco."

 

"As you wish. Yes, Draco, I came here to check on you. Though I know some time has gone by since you came out of your coma, I still would like to run some basic tests to see if there was any permanent damage or anything else I need to fix as a result of the poison. Normally this would have been done fairly promptly upon you waking, but seeing as how you decided to leave in a bit of a rush and no one knew how to contact you, my methods had to be amended." Draco felt himself begin to flush as Finnigan continued. "No matter, though, this shouldn't take long."

 

With a small nod from Sirius, both he and Harry left the room. Potter's eyes met Draco's briefly, looking like he wanted to protest, but then he looked down at his feet and padded back out after his godfather.

 

Once alone, Jace motioned for Draco to sit on a transfigured couch by the fire. Draco scowled, not liking the wordless command, but did as he was told. Upon sitting, Jace immediately began casting a series of spells Draco didn't recognize as beams of different colored lights wrapped around him. He could feel a warm tingly sensation working its way through his body. He found that it was quite intriguing. This kind of magic wasn't really taught at Hogwarts, and he found that he wanted to know more. "So what exactly are you doing?"

 

Jace briefly paused his casting, quirking an eyebrow questioningly before giving a small smile. "Well, I'm doing some simple tests on you to determine if your body has fully cleared itself of the poison and whether or not there have been any long-term side effects." At that, he cast another spell that caused all of the multicolored strands around Draco to still, even as the Healer lowered his wand. "You see, you were not simply poisoned with one thing. There was a total of three main ingredients, working together to form a toxin much more difficult to cure. You see this set of blue and gold strands here?" He tapped on two of the strands of magic with his wand, causing them to shimmer. "They are for the first of two Muggle-type toxins. These strands in particular link to a poison called conium, though you may know it as hemlock. A few leaves ingested are lethal, so my guess is this poison only had about one leaf. Enough to cause partial paralysis and begin slowly shutting down your respiratory and cardiac systems. Nasty way to go. The gold strand is checking for any further presence in your blood and the blue for lasting side effects." He did a quick spell and pulled a series of numbers and symbols Draco recognized into the air. This action caused the colored tendrils to fade.

 

"Hey, I know those symbols. We learned those in Advanced Arithmancy," Draco noted, admittedly fascinated by what he was seeing. He just barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch the fading symbols.

 

Jace smiled a bit before continuing. "Advanced Arithmancy? Interesting. I'm surprised you studied it. Yes, they are some basic calculations that tell me of your status. The first string of numbers let me know that the hemlock is indeed out of your system. The second string tells me that there may still be some lingering shortness of breath. I would suggest some light exercise to get the air flowing more readily." Draco could remember having some difficulty breathing, but he had just blamed it on Duncan's smoking habit. "Now these purple and green tendrils are linked to the poison called belladonna, or deadly nightshade. This is another extremely deadly poison. I'm guessing that simply a few drops of the juice of one of these berries were used. This amount would have made you sweat profusely, shake uncontrollably, and become extremely confused. I'm also willing to bet that this is what caused you to lose consciousness." As he spoke, he again pulled numbers and symbols from the shimmering strands, and then the strands faded away as the others had. "Again, it appears that all of the poison is out of your system. The only lingering effects you may feel are occasional headaches. Those should subside on their own with a week or two."

 

Draco snorted indignantly. "Well, as long as I'm stuck here with Potter I have a feeling those headaches will last the duration of my stay."

 

Jace smiled at the comment. "Perhaps. Now these two strands here, the red and silver ones, these relate to the poison that concerns me the most. It is a highly illegal Wizarding poison that I have only had the displeasure of dealing with once before, called paralsomnus. It is derived from the roots of the Venomous Tentacula plant whose effects include intense hallucinations and organ failure. But what makes this particular poison so devious is that it is tapered with the juice of a sopophorous bean."

 

Draco gasped slightly. "That's in the Draught of Living Death. Why would they add that to this poison?"

 

With a quirk of his eyebrow, Jace smiled slightly. "You are very bright Mr. Malfoy—Draco. Most people would not have known that ingredient at all, much less what it was in. Anytime you add this bean to a poison, it slows the effects of all the other toxic elements while lulling the person into a state halfway between being awake and asleep. I believe the reason it was added to this particular poison was so that the effects could kill you agonizingly slowly while putting you in a state close to sleep. It only would have taken a few drops to have its intended effect. Had Mr. Potter not been there that day, it is my professional opinion that you would have been paralyzed, in a state near sleep with your internal organs slowly shutting down. You would have been in extreme pain and have died within 24 hours. It would have been, literally, a waking nightmare until your death."

 

Draco was speechless. Whoever was trying to kill him had concocted a poison meant to terrorize him until he died. The thought was sobering. "That's horrible," he stated, unable to articulate anything else.

 

Jace's face took on an unusually somber expression. "Yes, it is horrible. But these numbers show that not only is it out of your system completely but also that the final poison had no long term effects. You are, as I suspected, safe from the poison."

 

Draco swallowed, though he felt his throat had gone completely dry. He decided he didn't need to know any more about what could have happened to him. "So what is this last white strand for?"

 

"Oh yes, this strand." Jace tapped the almost ethereal tendril with his wand causing it to glow rather brightly and making Draco's body feel warm from the inside out. "This strand is simply checking if there are any other foreign magical signatures, spells, poisons, or otherwise within your system. But you seem to be in luck. There are no foreign traces of magic in your system. Had there been, the pure white of the strand would have been stained with different colors depending on what was in your system and it's severity. You have officially been cleared."

 

"Thank Merlin," Draco said, with only a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Thinking about the poison again, he could feel cold fear pooling around his spine. It never occurred to him just how dangerous it could be. As he thought this, he remembered something the Healer had mentioned. "Oh, Jace, one question. You mentioned having dealt with the paralsomnus before. What happened in that case?"

 

Jace affixed a small, sad smile at the mention of the poison. "That, Draco, is a story for another time. But right now I feel quite comfortable calling Mr. Potter back into the room. I do believe he has been lingering outside listening nearly this entire time." With a small flick of his wrist, Jace sent the doors careening open. This revealed a now beet-red Potter standing behind them, muttering something that sounded like an apology as he shuffled into the room. Draco had to stifle a laugh in the neck of his jumper. "Seeing as you seem to have heard most of that, Mr. Potter, I don't believe I need to explain to you that Draco will be fine. A few more days of rest and he should be back to his old self."

 

"Well let's hope for everyone's sake that that's not true," Potter said dryly with a snort.

 

"Shove it, Potty," Draco snapped, flipping Potter a less than dignified finger, receiving a tongue out as a reply.

 

"Well, since the children in the room seem to be settling just fine, I'm going to go find the adults of the house and fill them in on the situation. Have a good day sirs," Jace said, with a tilt of his head as he exited the room up the stairs.

 

As soon as the Healer left the room, Draco felt a palpable awkwardness settle over the room. He saw Potter from the corner of his eye diligently studying the tiles on the floor and fiddling with his hands. Draco had wanted to talk to him all week, and yet standing here all he could think about was the fact that Harry had saved his life. "I'm not sure I ever properly said thank you." Draco's hoped his voice didn't sound as tight as it felt. Upon hearing the break in the silence, the other boy's head snapped up and trained his bright green eyes on Draco. It was just as unsettling as the last time they had been alone together.

 

"It's no big deal, really. I just happened to be there. Anyone would have done the same thing I did," Harry replied, with a sheepish smile as he scrubbed at his hair absently.

 

"Well, Merlin knows that isn't true. Still, your "right place at the right time" habit saved my life. As you apparently heard, that poison was a right bit of work. I certainly wouldn't have fancied going out that way," Draco said, not bothering to suppress the shudder that ran down his spine.

 

"Yeah well," Potter said, toeing the ground, looking for words, "you're welcome I suppose." Draco was surprised how shy Harry suddenly seemed at someone praising him for one of his countless achievements. You'd think he would be used to it by now, seeing as he had saved the Wizarding world and there always seemed to be someone telling him how perfect he was. Yet Harry seemed intent to get out of this particular spotlight. "Hey, are you hungry at all? I was thinking about having some sandwiches and tea out on the terrace if you're interested. I promise Buckbeak won't bother us if we stay off his grass."

 

Draco rolled his eyes at the obvious slight. "Shove off, prat. I'm not afraid of your bloody bird. But I will take you up on that sandwich." Draco felt a warm surge in the pit of his stomach at the beaming smile that split the other boys face as he headed to the fridge. Though he would never admit it aloud, Draco rather liked the feeling. As soon as Harry's back was turned Draco smiled as well. Yes, he liked the feeling quite a bit.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am adding this note to say this. I will no longer be accepting unnecessarily bitchy comments on this story. If you are critical that is fine. If there was something you didn't like, that's also fine. But if you are going to come every time I write a chapter and say rude things about my character as a person (and I am talking about me, the author) then I will delete your comment. It pains me to even have to say this, but there it is. If you have rude things to say about me and don't like how I write MY STORY, please keep them to yourself and just don't read the story. Thanks.

"...yes, and thank you as well, Minister. We will get back to you as soon as we have more information." Sirius' voice came drifting into the hall as Harry opened the front door on his arrival home from work. "Yes, of course, and give my best to Jana would you?"

 

Harry stepped into the drawing room as his godfather was withdrawing his head from the green flames at the end of his floo call. "Was that Kingsley?" Harry asked.

 

Sirius clearly had not heard him enter, and he jumped at the question. "Oh Harry, it's just you. You know, you really shouldn't sneak up on a man. Especially not one as jumpy as I am." Harry offered Sirius an apologetic smile before the other man continued. "Yes, that was Shacklebolt. He was just telling me about the new lead that you have been investigating. Why didn't you tell me, Harry?" Sirius asked, sounding slightly wounded.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. "I didn't tell you because it's rubbish. About a week ago there was a rumor that Alecto Carrow had been amassing followers in the south of Wales. Ron and I went over and checked it out and it was nothing. Just a radical group of supporters meeting up to talk about where the "movement" Voldemort led had gone wrong. Slimy bastards, the lot of them, but not dangerous. When questioned, they didn't even know who Carrow was. Kingsley still thinks there may be something there, but I'm doubtful." Harry rubbed his eyes reflectively. He was getting legitimately sick of following dead end leads. "I don't know how many more of these I can handle." Harry slumped down into the over-sized arm chair by the now smoldering fire.

 

Sirius came over and gave Harry a knowing pat on the shoulder. "I am tired of it too, but we will get a break. I can feel it, something is coming and fast." Sirius peered over Harry's shoulder and laughed before dropping his voice low enough for only Harry to hear. "Besides, much longer in the ancestral Black house and our reluctant guest might as well start going by his mother's family name."

 

Harry blanched and cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, Malfoy was standing in the open doorway, with a look of disdain and boredom staining his attractive features. Despite this, Harry couldn't seem to look anywhere besides his steel grey eyes which were, at present, located directly on Harry. "Welcome home Potter, you have missed quite the exciting day around here. Between reading, composing a letter, and avoiding your overstuffed chicken it has been an endless stream of mind-numbing boredom." The corners of his lips turned up into a small smirk as he sauntered forward and inelegantly draped himself over the arm of one of the rooms squashy chairs. "Though I did find an impressive number of improvements that need to be made to your home. Shall I list them?"

 

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not my home, Malfoy, you know that." He cast a fleeting glance at Sirius, who seemed to be doing everything he could to stifle his laughter. "And no, I would really rather you didn't list anything seeing as I just got home from work and I really don't care."

 

Draco pouted out his lower lip slightly, and Harry could feel the blush creeping into his cheeks. Despite himself, he really just wanted to go over and kiss that stupid git's pout until it melted away. Harry blushed as he pushed that thought from his mind. "Pity, I worked so hard on it too," Draco stated flatly. Harry was decently sure he was losing the plot.

 

Sirius though seemed to find the entire thing amusing, no longer putting forth even the slightest effort to conceal his laughter. His eyes shone with a mischievous glint that Harry had no intention of trying to decipher. "Well Harry," Sirius started, "I think it best if I let you two alone for a bit. Besides, I've got some letters to compose myself." Harry shot Sirius the dirtiest glare he could muster, but the man simply looked amused and gave Harry a wink and Draco a small nod farewell. The blonde simply went back to examining his cuticles. "Good day gentlemen." And with that, he left the room.

 

As the doors closed behind his treacherous godfather, suddenly Harry became overly aware of everything going on around him. As he shifted his weight from foot to foot the floorboards creak felt deafening in the silent room. He could hear his own breath rough and hard, as he reached up and loosened his tie. When did it get so hot in here anyways? The clock on the wall ticked a monotonous beat and his heart beat seemed to crash in his ears twice for every tick. All week he had been trying and failing, to find something to say to Malfoy. But every time the other man had even been near him, his mouth went dry and his hands got clammy. All he could think was that, somehow, Malfoy knew what Harry had been imagining.

 

And oh had he been imagining. More than once this week he had woken up far too soon from an amazing dream filled with tousled blonde hair and skewed glasses. And more than once he had had to use a cleaning charm before he could ever think of getting out of bed. At this rate, he might as well just become a house elf with how good he was getting at cleaning up a mess. Honestly, it was starting to get ridiculous. It wasn't as if he was some sixteen-year-old fantasizing about the captain of the Holyhead Harpies again. He was a fully grown man, who had only ever been with women; yet, suddenly he was having dreams and fantasies of sharp lines and defined muscles of a man he hated for the better portion of his life. What the fuck was wrong with him?

 

So, like any mature adult would do in a sexuality crisis, he had spent the better part of his time since that night in the kitchen doing what he did best: avoiding Draco Malfoy like he had dragon pox. Also a lot of wanking. But despite it being obvious that he should probably check himself into St. Mungo's, he couldn't help looking forward to his shower each day.

 

But now they were here. Harry could feel his face heating up as he searched his currently blank mind for something to say that didn't involve wanting to push Malfoy up against the closest wall and snog him until he couldn't breathe. "So, um, see the Cannons score in that last match?" He asked, feeling rather ridiculous talking about sports.

 

When Draco didn't respond right away, Harry glanced up and saw steel grey eyes locked on him, watching him quizzically. "No, Potter," he stated, without his usual arrogant drawl, "I'm not much for the Prophet these days and the Quibbler isn't exactly up to date on current events. Well," he paused, now studying his nails thoughtfully, "at least not real ones."

 

Harry let out a short, nervous laugh, but could already feel the tension in his shoulders easing up a bit."That's definitely true. Though, I am really happy with what Luna has done with the magazine since she took over. It's world's more entertaining now. And she gets the best interviews. I don't know how she does it."

 

Draco snorted and picked himself up before wandering to the large picture window in the corner and gazing out at the street below. "I'm not surprised. That woman could talk to anyone." He said softly. "Luna was really kind to me at a time when I really didn't deserve it."

 

Harry realized then that Draco sounded sad, which was not something Harry was used to. He suddenly felt the need to comfort Draco somehow. His first instinct was to hug him but quickly brushed that aside. Instead, he simply came over to stand next to the window. A few moments went by, with both men lost in quiet thoughts before Harry spoke. "I know what that's like. I don't know if I've known anyone as trusting or as annoyingly perceptive as she is. Sometimes I swear she knows more about me than I do."

 

When Harry stole a glance at Malfoy, he saw that his lips were turned up slightly into a genuine smile. When Malfoy turned and looked at him, though, he simply rolled his eyes. "Potter, you are in textbooks, newspapers, magazines, playing cards, and picture books for children. I'm pretty sure everyone knows you better than you do."

 

Harry laughed, but a real one this time. "Yeah, you're probably right. Everyone knows the great hero Harry Potter." He turned a devilish smile on Draco. "Even you Malfoy."

 

At this, a look crossed Malfoy's face that Harry didn't recognize, but made his insides light on fire. A second later the trademark Malfoy mask was back in place. "I'd like to think I know you a bit better than any sodding children's book."

 

Harry chuckled a bit. "You're right. I almost forgot how adept you were at writing articles about my life back in school. Rita Skeeter's favorite little spy."

 

Despite himself, Harry felt more than a little proud as Draco's face flushed a slight shade of pink. "Yeah, about that," Draco started, definitely avoiding Harry's eyes. "I'm sorry, Potter. I was a right git back then."

 

The apology made Harry's stomach flip flop and something warm settle in his chest. If someone had told him a year ago that Draco bloody Malfoy would be standing in front of him apologizing for being a git in school, he would have carted them off that instant. Yet, here they were, in the drawing room of his godfathers home, and Draco was in fact apologizing. As he stared at this man, he realized he didn't know him at all, and for some reason, this did not settle well with Harry. The boy he had known, who said terrible things and threatened his life was not the same man that stood in front of him now. Also, he realized that Malfoy was longingly staring out a window at an empty street. He had been cooped up inside this house for over a week with nothing to do and, really, no one to talk to. Suddenly, he felt extremely guilty about avoiding him all week. Though Harry was surely the last person Malfoy would want to talk to, he was sure it would have been better that being completely alone. He knew what he had to do.

 

"Hey, Malfoy? I have an idea."

 

Draco simply raised an eyebrow in response. "Be careful now Potter. We wouldn't want you pulling something thinking too hard," he said. Yet, despite his taunting words, he looked genuinely curious.

 

"How do you feel about grabbing some dinner with me tonight?" Harry said quickly so that he didn't lose his nerve. He quickly continued before Malfoy could open his mouth to protest. "I know I'm probably not your first, over even your tenth choice for a dinner partner, but it has to be better than staying here. I'm sure you have terrible cabin fever. We could put on some glamours and go somewhere in Muggle London. I know you hate muggles and all but it really is the safest bet. I know this really great Italian place nearby and-"

 

"Potter, for the love of Salazar, shut up," Draco yelled, shutting Harry up instantly. "Merlin, you talk a lot once you start going. Could you have managed to say more words in the space of ten seconds?"

 

"Sorry. I just thought-" Harry stammered, before being interrupted again.

 

"Didn't I just say shut it?" Draco admonished. "If you would let me get a word in, you would know that I was going to say yes."

 

Harry wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. He couldn't help beaming. "Really? You'll go? Even though it's in Muggle London?"

 

"Honestly, Potter, were you just born unobservant?" Draco said. "Did you not notice my apartment? Fridge, tele, muggle-wizard mixed community. Ringing any bells?

 

Harry shrugged, flashed a sheepish grin at Malfoy and scrubbed at the back of his head. "Guess I didn't notice. To me, that's just a regular flat since I grew up with all that stuff. I don't notice when a person does or doesn't have it. Even you."

 

"Well, I do," Draco said, sounding a bit defensive. "In case you haven't noticed, not only am I not really in a place to uphold all the pureblood crap anymore but I also don't care to."

 

Harry beamed again. "Well, great then. I just need to go shower and get out of my work robes. How about if we leave in around twenty minutes?"

 

Draco plopped himself back into the armchair from before and picked up the closest issue of Witch Weekly, which just so happened to have Ginny Weasley written across the cover where she showed off her brand new Puddlemere United uniform. Draco hadn't seemed to notice. "Fine, fine. Twenty minutes. I anxiously await your return." He drawled sarcastically.

 

Harry just shook his head as he turned to leave, listening to the rustle of the pages as Malfoy flipped through the three-month-old magazine. When Harry reached the stairs, he paused for a moment as the reality of the situation hit him. He and Draco Malfoy were about to go out and get dinner at a nice Italian restaurant together. Alone together. Suddenly he found that he couldn't swallow. What had he just gotten himself into?

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

When Harry got downstairs, he found Malfoy had spread out onto a couch with the magazine draped over his eyes. He appeared to be asleep, and Harry allowed himself a moment to just look at him. There was something vulnerable and endearing about the way his arm had fallen haphazardly over the couches edge and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It was so rare for Harry to see Malfoy as anything other than the, admittedly gorgeous, antagonistic prat he had always been. Though he didn't know how he knew he wanted to see Malfoy like this more often. Lost in his thoughts, Harry was startled when Draco spoke.

 

"So, are you just going to stand there creepily," Malfoy drawled, not removing the magazine from his face, "or are we going to eat?"

 

Harry laughed, took the magazine and smacked Draco's head with it. "Bugger off. Let's go eat."

 

"Watch it, Potter," Malfoy said, "from what I've heard assault is a crime punishable by time in Azkaban."

 

"Whatever, Malfoy," Harry said, rolling his eyes and tossing Malfoy's coat at his face. "Come on, I thought we could walk there. It's only about eight blocks from here."

 

Malfoy simply nodded as he shrugged on his charcoal grey blazer. Before they left, Harry cast glamours on them both. Of all the training he had gotten to become an Auror, this was by far the most useful trick for his day to day life. It let him go out and do what he wanted like a normal wizard without being stopped every ten minutes by someone wanting to thank him or get his autograph. Even though it had died down substantially since the war ended, there were still always people wanting something from him. Today he put on a few glamours. One made his raven black hair a mousy brown, another made his green eyes appear blue, and a third made his scar fade away. As a final thought, he gave himself some freckles across his nose. When he turned to Draco and raised his wand, Draco looked nervous but kept his chin defiantly high. His glamours made him look a bit less pointy, his white blonde hair turned the color of honey, and his striking grey eyes soften to a muted brown. When Harry finished, Draco turned to the hall mirror and examined his features.

 

"Well, I must say, Potter, I'm surprised," Malfoy said, turning his head to and fro as he looked at himself. "I think we have actually found a magic you are quite good at. Maybe you should think about opening up beauty parlor."

 

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Be careful, Malfoy, that almost sounded like a compliment."

 

Malfoy's cheeks turned a bit pink before he turned with a genuine smile on his new face. "Well, we simply can't have that, can we? We should probably just go then and pretend that never happened."

 

"Whatever you say, prat."

 

The walk to the restaurant went quickly, with Malfoy rattling on about the various improvements he thought should be implemented back at the house. Apparently, he had decided to ignore Harry's earlier insistence on not wanting to know. Despite that, Harry couldn't bring himself to mind. Even under glamours, Draco was still unbelievably handsome. His eyes shone when he talked and his arms gestured wildly. Harry was willing to let Draco talk about whatever he wanted, as Harry was content to just hear the man's voice. Something about the easy air between them made Harry feel warm inside, like a hot cup of tea on a winter day. This… thing that was happening between them was just a bit too comfortable. If things kept going the way they were, Harry was going to have to admit to himself that he may not be quite as straight as he had always imagined. As they walked, Harry kept having to restrain the unbelievable urge to loop his arm through Malfoy's and keep him close so they could soak up each other's warmth. He was so caught up in his thoughts, that he barely noticed when they made it to the restaurant.

 

Reaching the door first, Harry held it open for Malfoy, earning him a puzzled look. When they reached the front desk, the young blonde hostess smiled at them warmly. "Hi. Just the two of you this evening?" She asked, with a sparkle in her eye.

 

"Yes, thank you. Do you have any near the window?" Harry asked.

 

"Of course! In fact, we have a table near the back that is very private and romantic, right next to a big window."

 

Harry can't help the flush spreading over his face. "Oh, um, well it's not like that. But, er, thanks," he stammered out while they took their seats. The hostess gave them a puzzled look, before smiling at them again and heading back to the front. Great, now it looked like they were on a date. Harry sighed and awkwardly avoided Malfoy's eyes, as the other picked up the wine menu.

 

"Well," Malfoy started, "They certainly have a nice wine list if nothing else. I'm assuming you like wine Potter?"

 

Harry looked up and saw that, apparently, Malfoy had either missed or was choosing to ignore the exchange between Harry and the hostess and was studiously examining the wine list. "Yeah, I drink wine. I prefer red."

 

Malfoy looked over the top of the list at Harry, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Who'd have thought we would have something in common?" At this, he snapped his fingers to signal a waiter who promptly came over. "We will take a bottle of your '96 Falletto di Bruno Giacosa Asili Reserva and a Caprese salad with two plates to start per favore."

 

The waiter simply nodded and left through the back door to the kitchen before Harry could say a word. "Hey, what was that?" Harry demanded. "And since when do you speak Italian."

 

"Oh untwist Potter. I ordered us the best wine on the menu and a starter. Just trust me, you'll love it."

 

Harry silently seethed a bit. First, this gets called a date. Then, Malfoy orders for him. This whole thing was becoming ridiculous, though apparently, he was the only one who could see that. "I am perfectly capable of ordering for myself, thanks."

 

Malfoy rolled his eyes as the waiter returned with the wine. "Grazie," he said to the waiter before turning back to Harry. "I'm sure you can, Potter. Just not as well as I can." With that, he began pouring them each a generous portion of wine. "You know what, how about you just try it and then tell me if I'm right."

 

Harry narrowed his eyes but decided that the best course of action dealing with a Malfoy was to concede. "Fine," he said, before taking a long sip of the wine. As loathe as he was to admit it, the wine was phenomenal. The flavor was full bodied with cherry notes, subtly passing over the tongue and leaving a spicy note at the end. The flavor was rich and complex, and Harry was not the least bit surprised Draco liked this wine. Not that he could ever admit any of this to him. The last thing he needed was to further inflate Malfoy's bloated ego. "Alright, it's a good wine."

 

"Good." Malfoy snorted. " You really do have poor tastes, don't you?" Malfoy said, taking a long sip from his glass. As he did, his eyes seemed to roll back with pleasure. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from Malfoy's throat bobbing each time he swallowed. For the second time today, it was getting much too hot for Harry's liking despite it only being about 12 degrees out. He was, thankfully, snapped out of his trance when Malfoy spoke again, "Granted, it's not as good as the '61 Blaise and I had when we toured through Italy a few summers ago."

 

Blaise, of course. A Zabini. Of course, Draco knew Italian and was well versed in good Italian wine. Harry was grateful he had chosen this restaurant as opposed to the burger place downtown he had been tempted to go to. Something told him they wouldn't have wines older than this year. "I'll have to take your word for it."

 

A few minutes later, the waiter came back with the Caprese salad. Harry ordered the lasagna and Draco ordered melanzane alla parmigiana or (as he had to explain to Harry) eggplant parmesan. As the night went on, they talked about a lot. Draco told Harry about his trip to Italy, Harry told Draco about a case he had in Brussels the year before. They talked about Quidditch, their jobs, and the ridiculousness of the Prophet. All in all, it was actually a pleasant time. As they talked, Harry found himself transfixed with the way Draco slowly swirled the blood red wine around his glass and how his cheeks would slightly dimple and his eye would shine when he would get excited about a story he was telling. After finishing their food, and the better part of two bottles of wine, Harry started to realize that it was entirely possible that what he had been feeling lately was more than just fantasies about silk bed sheets and hot showers. The realization made his head spin, though that may have just been the wine.

 

"...and that's when Pansy decided to tell me that she had transfigured it into a sugar bowl!" Draco said, with a genuine smile that made Harry's stomach feel like a kaleidoscope of butterflies living in his stomach.

 

"Oh no!" Harry said through fits of laughter. "Hopefully, you got her back for that!"

 

Malfoy's smile slid into a mischievous one that did nothing to help Harry's stomach. "What, did you think she really had a potions accident in third year that turned her hair red and gold?"

 

Harry laughed again, remembering that day. Pansy had looked furious the entire time. It had been the highlight of the week. "I remember that. The whole Gryffindor table was trying to figure out who had jinxed her to look like a Gryffindor mascot because obviously, her potions story had been bullshit. I can't believe that was you. Everyone was convinced it was the twins or Seamus and Dean."

 

Draco sent Harry a smug smirk. "Well believe it. I don't take well to being fucked with, and I was good at getting my revenge back then." As he talked, his eyes looked a little sad. "I really was a bit of a prick in those days."

 

"You know, Draco, you are not the eleven-year-old git I remember."

 

"Oh no?"

 

"No," Harry said with a pensive smile. "See the boy I remember was pretentious, argumentative, cowardly, arrogant, and a complete prick."

 

Surprisingly, Malfoy just laughed. "So you don't think I am that way anymore?" He inquired.

 

Harry smiled up at Malfoy. "No, I still think you're pretentious, argumentative, cowardly, and arrogant," Harry paused for effect as he finished the last of the wine, "You just aren't a complete prick anymore."

 

Draco's face broke into a slow, easy smile. "Well, Potter, at least that's something."

 

"Why do you still call me that?" Shit, why did I say that?

 

Malfoy sat forward a bit and frowned, arms folded on the table and eyes turned down. "You know, I'm not sure. Guess that's just what I've always called you. You still call me Malfoy." He paused, then added with a smirk, "Most of the time."

 

Harry flushed. "Yeah, I guess that's true. But you're different now." He said, chuckling. When he looked up, Draco was staring right at him. "I spent the last twelve years hating Malfoy. I think I want to spend some time getting to know Draco."

 

For a few moments, their eyes locked on each other. Everything around Harry seemed to dull compared to the rich brown of Draco's new eyes, though Harry found himself wishing they were still that cool grey. The way the torch lights warmed his pale skin and softened his sharp features; the way his small smile caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle. Though he wasn't pretty like Cho had been, captivating like Fleur, or breathtaking like Ginny, there was something to be said about the way Draco's hair fell across his forehead and the way his eyes reflected everything he was feeling. Yes, Harry realized, he was in way too deep with this one. Maybe it was the wine talking, but all he knew was that he had to say something. He couldn't deny it anymore.

 

"Draco, I-"

 

"So, is there anything else I can get you, boys?" The owner that Harry knew to be named Paolo said, all smiles, as he approached the table.

 

It may have been Harry's imagination, but when the waiter approached and the moment broke, Draco almost looked disappointed. "No, nothing else. Just the bill." Harry said, shaking his head slightly with a small smile. What had he been thinking? There had been no moment. Draco wasn't disappointed, Harry was just projecting. "Thank you, Paolo."

 

Paolo gave a small bow. "It's nothing, Mr. Evans, we are always grateful to have you." He set the bill down and smiled. "You have always been my favorite customer."

 

Malfoy hid a chuckle from behind his napkin, and Harry shot him a dirty glare as he set down the money for dinner. "Well, you guys are the best. You can take this, and keep the change."

 

"Thank you again, Mr. Evans. Have a wonderful night, gentlemen." Paolo said, before taking his leave.

 

"Not a word, Malfoy," Harry said.

 

"Oh no, I wouldn't dream of it." Draco drawled, before finishing off the last of his glass. He stood quickly and slipped back into his blazer before turning to leave. As they walked, he half turned his head to Harry. "Thank you so much for dinner, Mr. Evans." He said, putting extra emphasis on Harry's fake name.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Let it alone, or I'll take back all those nice things I said about you at dinner."

 

"Nice things!" Draco said, feigning intense objection. "You called me pretentious, arrogant, and cowardly!"

 

Harry laughed while they strolled lazily down the street. "Don't forget argumentative."

 

"I am offended. And here I thought you were such a nice man, Mr. Evans." Malfoy teased, smacking Harry on the arm.

 

"Now who's going to have to be arrested for assault? And against an Auror, too; I think you're looking at hard time." Harry teased back.

 

"So, Harry Evans huh?" Draco asked. "How did you come to that name?"

 

"It's James actually, James Evans," Harry said, blushing furiously. He had never told anyone other than Ron about his glamour name, and that was only because Ron had been his Auror partner at the time he had chosen it. "It's a combination of my parent's names."

 

When Malfoy didn't respond right away, Harry stole a look at him. His eyes had a faraway look to them and his lips were turned slightly up at the corners. "Well Potter, that is surprisingly sweet of you. Are you certain you aren't a Hufflepuff?"

 

Harry just smiled and rolled his eyes. For a few minutes, they were both quiet. It had gotten rather chilly out, and with the mix of the wine in his stomach and the warmth radiating from Malfoy, Harry couldn't help but be happy. This had been one of the better evenings he had experienced in a long time. The tedious days of chasing dead-end leads seemed to slip away as he enjoyed the stars beginning to blink into the dusk sky. Walking along, Harry began to notice that they were both drifting toward each other. Not that he minded, but he was surprised Draco wasn't moving away. Perhaps he just hadn't noticed. And then their knuckles brushed and it was like lightning shot through his hand. It took everything in Harry to not gasp and jump away. When he looked over at Malfoy though, the blonde appeared to not even have noticed. Everything in Harry was buzzing from the unexpected contact, and he quickly trained his eyes on the ground.

 

"I love the cold," Draco said suddenly. "It's so bracing. I mean, don't get me wrong. There is something to be said about lying on a beach with the warm sun baking you. But this is the weather I look forward to all year."

 

"Well, Malfoy. It looks like we have more in common than just wine preferences." Harry said.

 

"I'm surprised. I would have thought you would prefer the warm Quidditch weather." Malfoy said, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

 

"Don't get me wrong, I love a good Quidditch weather day," Harry said. "But something about spending winter in the snow at Hogwarts made me fall in love with the season. Everything feels more magical and the world seems quieter during the winter somehow. Almost like the snow is muting everything." Harry flushed when he realized how sappy he sounded. The damn wine was turning him into a damn Hufflepuff. When he looked up at Malfoy, the man was studying him intensely, just making Harry flush harder. "I know, I sound like a bloody girl."

 

Draco simply shook his head and smiled. "No, believe me, I know what you mean."

 

Harry smiled and looked right in Malfoy's eyes, which he realized were beginning to lighten back to gray. Crap, the glamours were starting to fade. "Come on, we better get back. The glamours only work for a few hours and we still have a few blocks to go." And then their knuckles brushed again, and again Draco seemed unfazed. Like before, it was like lightning or fire spreading through Harry's arm. All he could think about was how amazing it would feel to entwine his fingers in Draco's or press their lips together. If he got this kind of fire from a simple brush, he was certain anything else would completely undo him. The thought was terrifying.

 

When they reached the house, Draco turned to him with a small smirk. "Ok, Auror Potter, we are out of danger. Think I can have my face back yet?"

 

Harry laughed and pulled out his wand. "Oh yeah, here you go." With a flick of his wand, he watched Draco's eyes fade all the way back to a silvery gray, his honey blonde locks lighten back to their normal white blonde, and his rounded edges sharpen back to their fine points. As handsome as Draco had admittedly been under his glamours, Harry had to admit he was actually more partial to Draco like this.

 

"Thank you," Draco said with a real smile.

 

"Oh, for that?" Harry said, scuffing his shoe on the front step. "That was no big deal. The glamour would have faded soon anyways."

 

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not the glamour, Potter. Dinner. Getting me out of the house. Surprisingly, I didn't have that terrible of a time."

 

"Why Draco, that may have been the nicest thing you have ever said to me. In fact, that may be the first nice thing you've ever said to me." Harry teased.

 

"Yeah, well, don't get too used to it," Draco said with a sigh. "We don't need the savior's head to get any bigger than it already is."

 

This time, Harry rolled his eyes, then looked up at Draco. The intensity in his silver eyes stole anything Harry had been about to say right out of his mouth. Despite himself, he couldn't help his eyes from dropping to Draco's lips. It was only then that he realized how close they were standing. All Harry would have to do is reach his fingers out a few inches and he would be able to grab Draco's hand. If he just leaned forward a little ways, the way it seemed Draco was starting to, he could…

 

Harry panicked. "I can't spend Halloween with you." Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

 

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he took a half step backward. "Excuse me?"

 

"Halloween," Harry said, unable to back out now. "I can't spend it with you. I'm going to a party, so I won't be here. I just thought you should know."

 

"Well, what gave you the impression I would want to spend it with Saint Potter?" Malfoy drawled. "Just because everyone else in the world wants your attention, doesn't mean I do. Besides, I already have plans for Halloween and you aren't invited."

 

"Wait," Harry said, suddenly annoyed, "you were planning on leaving? But what about the Dark Collective? People are after you! You can't just-"

 

"I can do whatever the bloody hell I please!" Malfoy yelled, eyes burning and fists clenched tight at his sides.

 

"But you could get killed!"

 

"I don't need you babying me!"

 

"But-'"

 

"No," Draco said, shoving Harry in the chest. "I'm staying under your roof, I'm accepting your protection, and I'm following the rules. I am not in prison. If I want to leave, I leave." Malfoy stomped up the remaining steps to the front door. "Thank you again for dinner, Potter. And don't worry, I won't burden you with my presence any longer tonight." And with that, Draco threw open the door, cast one last glare over his shoulder, and slammed the door behind him.

 

Harry stood there, shell shocked for a moment. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? And just as things had finally started to go so right. One minute they were brushing hands and it looked like Draco might kiss him, the next they were fighting and Harry was having the door slammed in his face. Harry turned around, sat down on the bottom step, and put his head in his hands. Well, at least one thing was consistent in his life: no matter what his sexuality, Harry was completely incapable of talking to men or women. He had no idea what he was going to do to fix this, but he knew he had to find a way to set things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Oh Harry, what have you done? Why are you always getting yourself into trouble. Really, that boy needs to learn to stop putting his damn foot in his mouth. I love him, I really do, but he is always sabotaging himself. Especially when it comes to Draco.
> 
> Regardless of Harry's ridiculousness, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it. We are just a few chapter away from some really awesome stuff, so 'm super glad you have been sticking with it. Please leave comments to let me know what you liked or didn't like.
> 
> Also, there is a one-shot companion piece coming soon. It isn't a required read, but helps give some background on Draco and Pansy and Blaise. It's a fun humor piece. If you are interested, keep your eyes peeled over the next week. It will be called Malfoy's Don't Drink Tequila.
> 
> Last thing. This will be the last of the super frequent posts. I already had all of this on ff.net, and this so far has just been me uploading it here. I will post as often as I can. I hope you guys will stick with me, because I am really excited about where this story is about to go. As always, love you all and thanks for reading.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so so much for being so patient with me getting this chapter to you. Unfortunately, about 4 months ago, not long after uploading my last chapter, my computer died on me. As a result, I wasn't able to get to the notes I had on there and the work I had already done. Well, here I am much later, still with no computer. Eventually I decided to just start over.
> 
> This chapter was actually written on my phone, which is a pain in the ass. I hope you guys like it. It has been quite a long time coming. Hopefully my computer will be repaired soon and I can get content to you faster.
> 
> Thanks, as usual, to my amazing friend and beta practical_cat. You are always so encouraging and helpful, even when you have a wicked cold. You always come through for me, and so I would like to dedicate this chapter to you.

“Thank you again for dinner, Potter. And don’t worry, I won’t burden you with my presence any longer tonight.” Draco said coolly, just as he slammed the front door shut and stormed up the stairs to his room.

 

"I can't spend Halloween with you." Draco mocked to himself after putting up a slew of locking charms and privacy spells. "I'm Harry Potter and I think everyone wants to spend every bloody moment with me. Look how special I am." Draco said, violently changing out of his outfit and throwing the clothes on the floor. " _ Obviously _ , you have nothing better to do on Halloween than be with me, so obviously I have to warn you that I'm not free."

 

Draco stomped around his room a bit more, slamming drawers and throwing his shoes in the closet. "Bloody prat, who does he think he is." And just as Draco was starting to- no. He was starting to nothing. Potter was a good for nothing wanker.

 

So what if Draco didn't have any plans for Halloween? And so what if he had been hoping to spend it with the git. It wasn't like HE ever needed to know that. But he couldn't just sit around here all day. He needed a plan. He needed a party. He needed his best friend.

 

With a huff, Draco sat at the desk in his room and grabbed his quill.

 

_ My Darling Pansy, _

 

_ How are you love? Hope all is well. I'm sorry I have been out of contact. Things have gotten more complicated with that thing we discussed. I would tell you more, but I fear what would happen if the wrong people decided to intercept this letter. I can't tell you where I'm staying at present, but I assure you, all is well. _

 

_ Now, let's move on to the subject of Halloween. I think it's safe to assume you will be having your annual soiree. Seeing as I am without plans this year, I was hoping to acquire an invitation. Just for myself, as I don't think Duncan's first introduction to this world should be one of your extravaganzas. I don't think I'd see him again after that. _

 

_ Anyways, I look forward to hearing from you. As usual, it's been far too long. We have so much catching up to do. Hope all is well. _

  
  


_ Sincerely, _

_ Draco _

 

After sending off his owl, Draco decided to settle in for the night without a bath. The last thing he needed was for Potter to hear him and decide to try to come apologize. Or worse. For Potter to not come try to apologize. No, sleep was a much better plan.

 

Draco lay in bed and tried to sleep, but rest felt far away. Why did Potter have to screw everything up? The night had been going so well. They had been able to talk so easily and had laughed so much. Draco couldn't remember the last time he had such a good night. And maybe it was just the wine, but they had even seemed rather... flirty. Draco rolled over and screamed into his pillow. Since he was eleven years old he had never known someone more infuriating than Harry bloody Potter. Even when they were getting along, the speccy idiot could get under his skin. How could a bloody Gryffindor have this big of an effect on him? Finally, after a good amount of tossing and turning, Draco fell into a restless sleep.

 

Perhaps it was just due to his poor sleep, but that night, Draco did not dream, which was about the only thing he was grateful for when he woke up in the morning. Despite himself, he was starving. He knew he would have to get up and get breakfast at some point, but he couldn’t be arsed to get himself downstairs to, undoubtedly, have to deal with Potter. If he had his way, he would stay in this room all day. Though, if the loud rumbling of his stomach was any indication, this would be yet another thing that wouldn’t be going his way.

 

As he groaned up at the ceiling, praying it would just crumble on top of him, he heard a tap on his window and an incredibly irate looking owl. Only Pansy would manage to get an owl that perfectly matched her temperament, Draco thought with a roll of his eyes. Opening the window with a flick of his wand, the bird came and settled on Draco’s shoulder, giving his ear a small nip.

 

“Ow!” He exclaimed, giving it a treat before sending it on its way. “Bloody untrained bird. I should have that thing stuffed.”

 

Draco sighed as he unfurled Pansy’s note. It didn’t say much, but made her point loud and clear:

 

_ Draco Malfoy! _

 

_ How dare you leave me waiting around like this. I came by your flat again and you were gone and the place was a right disaster. I thought you had been taken or killed! If you would just leave your sodding cell phone on, we wouldn’t have this issue. Call me, right away. _

 

_ Oh, and you are of course invited to my party. There is always a standing invitation for you, you know that. _

 

_ -P _

  
  


Draco sighed again at his best friend’s histrionics. He would have to call her today. While he was at it, maybe he would call Duncan as well. Though all of this would have to wait until after breakfast. So, he pulled on a shirt from the closet and decided to brave the kitchens.

 

Despite his initial fears, it appeared the house was fairly abandoned. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Most days, Potter was at the ministry, and the other two… well, Draco wasn’t sure what they did with their time but they certainly weren’t here. After a quick breakfast of toast and coffee, he decided it was time to suck it up and get his verbal lashing from Pansy.

 

After fishing his cell phone out from the drawer by his bed, he called, and it only took two rings before she answered.

 

“Draco, it’s about time you called.” Pansy’s voice chided through the phone. “When I saw Stella come back and I still hadn’t received your call I was certain something must have happened to you because the only way you wouldn’t do exactly as I asked, which was calling immediately, was if you were dead or incapacitated.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry Pans,” he said. “Believe it or not, eating actually has a bit higher spot on my list of priorities than your dramatics.”

 

“I am not dramatic!” She said. “Well… alright. Perhaps a tad. But not this time. Your life is in danger, and I haven’t heard from you in ages. You could have been dead, and I wouldn’t even know!”

 

“Yes, you would,” Draco said, with a wry smile. “I don’t want to imagine a world where Pansy Parkinson isn’t up to date on the latest gossip.” He could practically hear her preening through the phone.

 

“Compliments will get you everywhere, Draco,” Pansy said, sounding incredibly pleased with herself. “Now, what is this about not having plans for Halloween? Not going to be with your little boy toy? Or perhaps Potter?”

 

Draco scoffed. “As if I would want to spend one of my favorite holidays with that imbecile.” He said, hoping he came off as more sincere than he felt. “Besides, like you said, I haven’t seen you in ages. And I miss all the Slytherins, it’s been too long, and I’ve been hiding out far too long. Also, Duncan is my boyfriend, not a boy toy.” Draco added the last part as an afterthought, though he wasn’t even sure that was strictly true.

 

“You say tomato, I say potato,” Pansy said. “Or however that silly phrase goes.”

 

“I am pretty sure that isn’t right.”

 

“Whatever,” Pansy said, unaffected. “Either way, I would be happy to have you stage your little return to society at my party. As per usual, it starts at seven o’clock sharp. Normally I require a small donation to go toward the alcohol, but I think I will waive that for you.”

 

“How very generous of you,” Draco said dryly.

 

“I am, aren’t I?” She replied, without a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “Alright, well I best be off then. I am quite busy, you know. Leave your phone on, and I’ll see you next week. Ta!”

 

With that, Draco heard the distinct beep of being hung up on. “Goodbye to you too.” He loved his best friend, he really did, but sometimes she was so completely full of herself it shocked even him. Alright, now to call the boyfriend… that sounded odd even in Draco’s head. He’d just stick to Duncan, title not included.

 

Again, it only took two rings to get through to him. What, did these people just carry these stupid things around in their pockets all day? What a load of bollocks.

 

“Draco?” Duncan said, voice low and silky, even over the phone. “I’m surprised to see you calling me after blowing off our date and then not calling for weeks.”

 

Draco flushed. “Sorry about that I…” he fished around for something acceptable to say to excuse his behavior. “I had a family emergency.”

 

“I thought you said your parents were dead?” Duncan asked, skeptically.

 

“Yes, they are,” Draco said. “It was my cousin, Sirius.”

 

“I didn’t even know you had a cousin,” Duncan said, still sounding skeptical but more hopeful now.

 

“I know,” Draco said sheepishly, “we don’t get on very well. He was a bit of a bad seed in the family. But, you know, with both our parents dead, we are the only family each other has left.”

 

Duncan let out a long, slow breath before responding. “I suppose that makes sense.” He said, much brighter than before. “Well, I miss you. It’s been too long and the nights are so cold and lonely without you in my bed.”

 

Draco smirked. “I am irreplaceable.”

 

“And so humble,” Duncan said, with a laugh. “So when do I get to see you next? Care to get a drink with me on mischief night?”

 

Draco couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. What better way to get under Potter’s skin than leaving to see his… well, whatever Duncan was. The Golden Boy was always so concerned about safety and glamours that this was sure to piss him off. “Alright, I’m in.” He said, feeling triumphant. “Same bar where we met? Say, nine?”

 

Draco could almost see Duncan’s smile through the phone. “That sounds great. Can’t wait to see you.”

 

“Great,” Draco said. This time, it was Draco who hung up the phone without a goodbye.

 

Draco beamed and decided to wait for Potter to return home downstairs, where he would have the highest possible chance of seeing him right away and ruining his day. The kitchen was his best bet, so he went down, settled on the couch, and spent his time finishing his article.

 

It was a long time before Potter came home, and today he had come through the floo. Excellent, he came straight to me. I love it when they make it easy. “Potter.” Draco drawled.

 

To Draco’s extreme pleasure, the other man was extremely startled and nearly tripped over the hearth. “Malfoy!” Potter said, lamely. “What are you doing down here?”

 

Draco refused to admit to himself that Potter’s furrowed brow was cute. He was pissed off and had to hold on to that feeling. “Waiting for you, as it happens.”

 

Potter smiled and Draco nearly changed his mind. “Oh good!” Potter said, putting his things down on the kitchen counter. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about last night.”

 

Draco sneered. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

 

Potter’s brow furrowed again. “What do you mean?” He asked. “I thought… well, then why are you waiting for me?”

 

“I thought it would be impolite if I didn’t inform you that I will be leaving the day after next to see my… to see Duncan.” Draco said. “And I will be attending a party on Halloween, so I will not return here until the first.”

 

Immediately Potter’s face fell into a peculiar expression. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He asked.

 

Draco realized the look on Potter’s face was one of concern. Draco quickly squashed the warm feeling that left in his chest. “I am perfectly aware of the dangers, Potter.” He said. “I am also fully aware of my abilities to protect myself in the event that someone does try to attack me. Besides, I will be in a bar surrounded by muggles and then a party full of Slytherins. Only a fool would try something at either of those places.”

 

“But Draco,” Potter started, “what if the perpetrator  _ is _ one of the Slytherins?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “As per usual, you assume the Slytherins are the bad lot.” Draco sneered again. “How very mature of you. I’ll have you know, I am friends with every single person at the Parkinson’s annual Halloween soiree. All have had many opportunities to kill me, and none have taken them. I will be perfectly safe.”

 

“But what if-”

 

“There will always be what if’s with you!” Draco yelled. “I am going. I am not your prisoner. So unless you are planning on handcuffing me to your bed, I will be at that party and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

 

Inexplicably, Potter blushed and wouldn’t meet Draco’s eye for a long moment. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” He said, finally.

 

“Well,” Draco said, crossing his arms firmly across his chest, “then I suppose its good I don’t give a fuck what you think, Potter.” And with that, Draco stormed away from the room leaving a crestfallen Potter alone in the middle of the kitchen.

 

The next two days were a chilly silence. It seemed as if Potter was the only one staying in the house at the moment, though Draco had no idea where his other hosts were. For once, he wished they were here if only to help Draco avoid the many awkward run-in’s he and Potter seemed to be having. Even when they did find themselves in the same room, neither man said a word. More than once, he caught Potter staring at him as if he was about to say something, but each time a pointed look from Draco made the man's confidence appear to deflate. By the time Draco was ready to leave, they hadn’t said a word to each other.

 

Unsurprisingly, when Draco reached the main floor, Potter was there waiting for him. Draco let out a big breath to steady him for the lecture that he could just see in Potter’s eyes. “Is there something you needed, Potter, or am I free to go?”

 

Potter shifted from foot to foot. “Yeah, you can go just…” he seemed unsure of his next words, as he worried his lip between his teeth, “just be careful, alright?”

 

“Why, Potter,” Draco said, with a smirk, “if I didn’t know better I would think you were worried about me.”

 

Potter rolled his eyes. “I just wouldn’t want the only lead in the case to go and get himself blown up.”

 

Draco narrowed his eyes but smiled slightly. “No,” he said. “You care. You just don’t want to admit it.”

 

At that, Potter flushed again. “Whatever, Malfoy.” He said. “Just don’t die.”

 

Without waiting for a reply, Potter turned around and went up the stairs. Malfoy couldn’t help watching him go with a small smile. As soon as Potter was out of sight, Draco left and couldn't help almost wishing he had stayed.

 

When he got to the bar, Draco was suddenly nervous. Maybe the paranoid idiot had been right. There were people out to get him, and he had little protection. Besides, he hadn’t even seen Duncan in weeks. This was bound to be a bit awkward. Draco was just contemplating leaving when he felt hands slip around his waist.

 

“Hello handsome.” A silky voice said right against his ear.

  
  


Draco was glad he had resisted the urge to go for his wand just in time, and he smiled as he turned around in the other man’s arms and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. “Duncan.” Draco nearly purred. It had been far too long since had any human contact.

 

“It is so good to see you,” Duncan said against Draco’s lips. “Come on, let’s get inside so I can whip you at pool again.”

 

Draco laughed, all further fears quickly melting away. “You never know, I might win this time.”

 

He didn’t.

 

Draco started off mildly with simple vodka tonics, but it wasn’t long before Duncan had them both taking shots of something brightly colored that burned as it went down. The burn reminded Draco of Potter’s firewhiskey from the other night. He shook the thought from his head.

 

They played multiple rounds of pool, Duncan winning each time, much to his amusement. The man’s bright blue eyes shone drunkenly at Draco, and for some reason, Draco kept thinking they weren’t quite the right color. That thought led to another round of shots. By the time the men were ready to leave, Draco was properly sloshed. It was a lot of fun, but something kept feeling missing. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept thinking he saw black hair and stupid glasses, and his heart would leap into his throat. No matter what he did, the bloody Gryffindor wouldn’t get out of his mind.

 

The two men stayed at the bar until closing.By the time they finally left, there were only a couple of bar patrons leaving and the streets were empty. Outside, Duncan pushed him into the alley behind the bar. Draco was far too pissed to complain. Not that he would have, of course. This was what he had been wanting after all, right?

 

As their kisses became more heated, Duncan’s hands snaked down to Draco’s hips and then between his legs. It had been so long, it nearly undid him right there. As Duncan went to his knees and began undoing Draco’s trouser buttons, Draco simply leaned back and closed his eyes.

 

Unbidden and very much against his will, he found himself imagining it was Potter’s hand fumbling with his zipper, that it was Potter’s hot breath ghosting across his rapidly growing erection, that it was Potter taking his length into his mouth, and that it was Potter’s hair he buried his fingers in.

 

As Duncan groaned, the vibrations went right through Draco and he pulled the man's hair, knowing full well Potter wouldn’t like that, making it just that much more appealing. The image was enough to send Draco quickly over the edge and pouring down the wrong man’s throat. It wasn’t enough, and it was just off enough for Draco to know it was wrong.

 

He refused to think about any of this as they went back to Duncan’s nearby flat. He also refused to think about it when he told Duncan he wanted to take him facedown. He also refused to think about it when the sound of his own name coming from his lover’s lips didn’t sound quite right. He also refused to think about it when his lover fell asleep next to him, looking much more pleased than Draco felt.

 

No, it wasn’t until the sun was nearly coming up over the city below them and he still hadn’t been able to sleep that Draco allowed himself to think about everything that had just happened. Draco had slept with the man who was something to him but hadn’t wanted it to be him. He had wanted it to be Harry sodding Potter. Draco had known the attraction he felt was there but hadn’t realized it was this bad. The only way he had been able to get off was imagining a different raven haired man. After this, there was no more denying the truth to himself.

  
  


He wanted Potter. Now he just had to figure out what to do with that realization. With the thought lodged deep in his mind, Draco finally drifted off into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of his mouth exploring every inch of Potter’s skin.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry had always loved Halloween. There was something about the costumes and candy and candles and jack-o-lanterns that always made him smile. This year was no exception, even with the things plaguing his mind. He refused to let Draco sodding Malfoy ruin one of his favorite holidays. As he apparated to Godric's Hollow, he was not disappointed. Every window was filled with purple and orange lights, each house had an intricately designed pumpkin out front, and many statues were charmed to jump out and spook you as you walked past. Everywhere he looked, children in costumes ran about with their exhausted parents trying to catch them, and the sight made Harry laugh. Yet, despite himself, he couldn't help wondering where a certain blonde git was and if he was safe.

Walking up to the hall that was housing the evening's festivities, he took a deep breath and tried to settle his thoughts. Tonight was about friends and fun. In that instant, he promised himself that he would not spare one more thought on someone who wouldn’t spare one for him. Opening the large double doors, the sounds of revelry quickly surrounded him. The hall was well adorned with streamers, floating candelabras, pumpkins, and cobwebs. The lights were dim enough to add an air of creepiness but not so much to hide the fun throughout. He knew the back led to a corn maze, the left to a haunted house, the right held the band The Weird Sisters he had helped book, and at the center was a large dance floor already filled with former classmates. Again he found himself smiling at the prospect of what the evening could bring.

It was only a moment later that he was met with the sound of two voices he knew and loved. He turned and smiled at his two best friends who had not yet noticed him.

"Oi, Hermione," he heard Ron say, tugging at his white flowy shirt and suspenders as Hermione smoothed out some invisible wrinkle on her red, beaded dress, "who are we supposed to be again?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "For the fourth time, Ronald, we are Jack and Rose from Titanic. The movie I made you watch not even a month ago. You know it's my favorite."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, which caught Hermione's attention and he smiled. "You’ll never get him to actually remember, you realize that right?" Harry asked with a smile.

Hermione sighed again, though she remained smiling. "I know," she said, linking her arm with Ron's, "but a girl can dream can't she?"

"Hey Harry," Ron said, with a lopsided grin. "How bout this place, huh?"

"I know," Harry replied, again taking in the splendor of the room. "I can't believe Ginny did all of this."

"You bet your ass I did," Ginny said as she walked up to the group with a smile. Tonight her long hair was swirled up into a bun, with chopsticks through it. She wore a floor-length red geisha dress with a slit to her hip and black heels that made her nearly taller than Harry. She looked stunning. Harry couldn't help himself as he whistled at her and shot her a wink. She laughed and rolled her eyes, as she linked her arm through Harry’s. “Took you three long enough to get here.”

“It’s barely nine, Gin,” Ron said, pointlessly.

“Yes well I have been here since five,” she said with a glare at her brother, “and you were supposed to be here hours ago to help me set up.”

Ron flushed, looking appropriately abashed, but wisely said nothing. Ginny simply rolled her eyes again. Harry decided he should probably step in before she got really mad. “Sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he said, “I got held up with a case at The Ministry.”

Ginny beamed at him. “Oh, I’m not upset with you, Harry. “ She said, patting his hand. “I know if you could have been here you would have. It’s my good for nothing brother who more than likely sat on his lazy arse all day doing nothing while the rest of us slaved away here or at work.”

“Hey, I-” Ron started, but was quickly silenced by a jab to ribs from Hermione's elbow. “Ow!”

“Come on, Ron,” Hermione said as she began to walk toward the dance floor. “Let’s go dance before you get your foot stuck any further in your mouth.”

Both Harry and Ginny laughed as the two walked away, Ron arguing his point with Hermione, though she was clearly having none of it. Harry couldn’t help but be charmed. Despite their disagreements and differences, he knew that those two really loved each other and were perfectly matched. Harry would be lucky to find someone he fit with that well. Unwittingly, his thoughts went back to Draco and he sighed, causing Ginny to look at him quizzically.

“Come on,” he said before she could ask him anything. “Let’s go get a drink, yeah? I think I see Dean and Seamus over at the bar too.” Harry said with a wave to his friends. Ginny didn’t comment, but a sly smile crossed her face as she followed him compliantly.

“Harry, how are you?” Dean asked as Harry and Ginny arrived at the bar. Ginny quickly disentangled herself from Harry and went to the bar for their drinks.

“Not too bad,” Harry replied, “just bogged down with cases at the moment. Sometimes I wish the bad guys would just take a holiday, if for nothing else than to save my poor hand from filling out paperwork when I catch them.”

“Right that,” Dean said as he and Seamus laughed.

“At least you catch things, Harry.” Seamus piped in. “My slightly challenged boyfriend here couldn’t even catch the diricawl that wandered into our yard last month.”

“Hey!” Dean said, poking Seamus in the shoulder hard, making the other boy laugh. “That’s not entirely my fault. I didn’t realize those bloody birds could disappear at will. And I did catch it eventually, didn’t I?”

Seamus laughed again, before pulling Dean in for a slow kiss. “Yes, you did love.” He said quietly against Dean’s lips.

For reasons Harry refused to identify, he had to look away from Seamus and Dean’s intimate moment. Seeing it made the pit of longing in Harry’s stomach ache and he steadfastly refused to allow his mind to wander where it wanted to. Thankfully, he only had to deal with it for a few moments when Ginny came back with two fruity drinks, enchanted to look like a swirl of lime green and black ink as plumes of smoke in the shape of skulls and ghosts danced off its surface.

“Something the matter, Harry?” Ginny asked, putting a hand on his wrist and breaking his melancholy. “You look like you just spotted Malfoy in the crowd.”

Harry choked as he sipped his drink. “Yeah,” he said nervously, once he stopped coughing, “that would be awful.” He took another sip of his drink, carefully this time, before turning to Ginny. “Honestly, I’m fine, just a little tired from all the work lately. I have so many cases that I’m up to my ears in paperwork.”

Ginny eyed him skeptically, but eventually gave a small nod and took a sip of her own drink. “Alright Harry, if you say so. Just don’t forget I’m here if you ever need me.” With a final smile, she twirled around and headed off toward the dance floor, presumably to settle the dispute that had appeared to have sprung up between the band manager and one of the guests.

Harry smiled as he took a sip from his drink and watched her expertly handle the issue. He would always be eternally grateful for the easy friendship he had gained with his former girlfriend. Where so many others had bad blood with the loves of their past, Harry and Ginny had easily slipped from a happy and fulfilling relationship to a supportive and fun friendship. She was someone he knew he could always count on when his life got complicated, without any fear of judgment or his secrets getting out. In the years since their very amicable split, she had become one of his closest confidants. Harry truly didn’t know what he would do without her honesty and quick wit. He sighed again. Maybe he should tell her what was going on. If anyone would have advice on this, it would be her.

As distracted as he was, Harry barely even noticed as Neville came up to stand beside him. Neville was quiet for a moment as he drank his own blood red drink. “Strange being the last single blokes from the group, isn’t it?” Neville asked.

Harry gave a brief laugh. “Certainly leaves us lacking in the dance partner department, doesn’t it?” Harry replied, draining the dregs of his drink and picking up a glass of champagne from the passing tray.

Neville snorted. “Good thing that,” he said with a smirk. “Can you imagine how many poor girls feet you would have assaulted by now if you did have dance partners?”

“You’re hilarious, you know that.”

“I try.”

Harry sighed and looked out at the dance floor. Despite himself, Harry found that Draco had unwittingly crept into his thoughts once again. Right now, the bastard would likely be waltzing perfectly with every girl in the room. Though he hated to admit it, Harry missed him and let himself indulge the feeling, if only for a moment.

“Not that I suspect I would have much of a problem with stomping on girl's toes,” Neville said.

Harry snorted. “No need to brag, Nev.” He joked. “The Yule Ball wasn’t that long ago. I’m fully aware how much better of a dancer you are.

Neville flushed and coughed. “Well, that isn’t exactly what I meant.” He said, not meeting Harry’s eye. “I more was referring to the girls part, if you know what I mean.”

Harry blinked twice before realization dawned on him. “Oh,” Harry said. “Oh!”

“It’s not a big deal or anything,” Neville said with a small shrug but still, would not meet Harry’s eye. “But, even still, I’d appreciate keeping it quiet for now. Just until I get around to telling everyone.”

Harry nodded but was lost in his own thoughts. It wasn’t that he had a problem with Neville, or anyone else for that matter, being gay. To Harry, love was love,and that had little to do with which bits the other had below their waist. No, what bothered Harry is he suddenly felt extremely unobservant. It had taken four months before he realized that Seamus and Dean were actually in a relationship, and apparently, people had known about their attraction for years. With Ginny, they had been in a relationship and he hadn't even noticed. And now Neville and Draco? Since when was there so much gay around him? And since when was he so completely obtuse.

“...think I should do it?” Neville says, looking quickly at Harry in earnest.

Panicking, Harry realized he hadn’t heard a single word Neville had said. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t figure out what his friend had just been saying. Just as he is about to attempt some sort of response, he is saved by the arrival of Ginny.

“Hey there Neville.” She said, hugging him tightly. “Mind if I steal Harry for a dance?”

Neville laughed. “Sure,” he said with a smirk, “as long as you don't value your toes too highly.”

Harry laughed and nodded to Neville before allowing himself to be pulled onto the dance floor. He may be a shite dancer, but it was better than standing there slack-jawed at whatever the other man had been trying to tell him.

“You looked like you could use some rescuing,” Ginny said as they settled into a slow, uncomplicated dance.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled sheepishly. “How could you tell?”

Ginny laughed and then grimaced as Harry stepped on her foot. “Harry,” she said, “I have known you for the better portion of my life. You are best friends with my brother, have practically lived with us, and we dated. If you don’t think I know what it looks like when you realize you have tuned someone out, you don’t know me very well.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to laugh, but it came out a bit short as he narrowly avoided turning Ginny around into another dancer.

“I have to ask, though,” Ginny said after a few moments, “what did have you that distracted? You looked like something was really wrong. To be honest, you’ve seemed a bit off all night. And don’t say it’s only work.”

Harry sighed and looked up into the beautiful brown eyes that used to leave him entranced, and tonight he found himself wishing were grey. “Do you think it’s possible for a person to go their entire lives without realizing they are gay?”

“I’m not sure.“ Ginny chewed her lip slightly and smiled a small smile. “I doubt it. Though I do suspect that one could go their entire lives convincing themselves they aren’t gay, and some people can be pretty damn convincing. It can’t last, though, not if the person wants to be happy. Eventually, someone will come along and shake your entire world up and in that moment you will finally realize what love is supposed to feel like.”

“Is that what happened with you and Luna?” Harry asked.

“Sort of,” Ginny said. “I mean the second part, absolutely. Meeting her, falling in love with her, it was easier than breathing. It didn’t matter that she was a girl. It mattered that she knew how to listen to me, to make me laugh, she was my biggest fan from day one. Falling in love with her was the easy part. But I always knew, on some level at least, that I was gay. I went through a bit of denial, as proved by us dating, but when it came down to it I noticed the curve of Romilda’s hips far more than I ever noticed the hardness of your chest.”

Harry couldn't help but laugh. “Geez, how did I not notice, Gin?” He asked as he gave her a slight twirl.

“It's not that simple, you know that,” Ginny replied with a sad smile. “I did love you, I just mixed up what kind of love. When you're 16 and hormonal it's hard to know what's going on. Besides, we were at war! It's easy to get emotions all screwed up when everything is so intense.

“I guess that makes sense,” Harry said. “Anyways, where is your lovely lady this evening?”

Now it was Ginny’s turn to sigh. “Oh, my lovely Luna.” She said, rolling her eyes. “She is presently with her father somewhere north of Scandinavia searching for some invisible something or other.” When Harry gave her a look she was quick to add, “I said I love her, doesn't mean I understand her.”

They both laughed. Luna's peculiarities had not lessened as she got older, but now most people found them endearing as opposed to looney. As the song was coming to an end, Harry noticed Hermione waving at them. “Want to go say hi to Hermione?” He asked with a smile.

“Sure,” Ginny began, though her focus was behind Harry, “as soon as I get Cormac McLaggen’s bloody head out of my topiaries. You'll excuse me, Harry?”

With that, she was off. Harry was incredibly amused by the sight of Ginny pulling the much larger Cormac out by his ears, but his distraction was quickly cut off as Hermione tapped him on the shoulder.

“How’s it going, Ron finally escape?” Harry asked.

Hermione rewarded him with the firm slap on the arm. “I'll have you know, Harry Potter, that Ronald has done a very good job fetching me drinks and dancing with me.”

“I'm sure he has,” Harry said. “Which is even more reason why he would have wanted to escape.”

Hermione glared slightly before releasing a long suffering sigh. “If you weren’t my best friend,” she said seriously, “I swear on Godric Gryffindor I would have killed you by now.”

“Somehow I truly believe that,” Harry replied.

“Anyways,” Hermione said, “where did Ginny get off to? I saw the two of you dancing but she seems to have disappeared.”

“Oh she’s right over there,” Harry said with a slightly evil grin, “rescuing your, apparently very drunk, ex-boyfriend.”

It took Hermione a moment to spot them, but when she did she immediately turned and smacked Harry again. “I will have you know,” she said, “it was one date. He was never my boyfriend.”

“That’s right,” Harry said. “You were just trying to make Ron jealous if I recall.”

“Yes, well,” Hermione replied.

“Sorry about that,” Ginny said, looking only slightly put off. “Apparently, your ex-boyfriend has had entirely too much to drink this evening.”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend!” Hermione said. Harry couldn’t help but snicker and was rewarded with another smack to the arm.

Ginny shrugged. “Either way,” she said, “I kicked him out. I don’t need to tell you how big of a pain it would be dealing with it if he got puke everywhere. Or worse, if he tried to apparate.”

“Yes of course. So Ginny,” Hermione said, quickly changing the subject, “did you tell Harry your big news yet?”

Ginny glared at Hermione. “No, I did not.” She said. “You were supposed to keep quiet about that.”

“I know,” Hermione replied. “I’m just so excited. I wish you hadn’t told me.”

“Oh come on Gin,” Harry said. “Don’t keep me in the dark. You know I know how to keep a secret.”

Ginny sighed. “Yeah alright.” She said. “But I want to do this in private. Walk the corn maze with me?”

“Sure,” Harry replied.

The two made their way outside after a quick goodbye to Hermione and began winding their way through the throngs of people to the back door. Since Harry arrived, the hall had greatly filled up with people dancing and drinking and playing the games. Unsurprisingly, the party was a hit. Walking outside, Harry was again impressed. He had seen the corn maze when it was just beginning to be built but it had truly exploded since then. Neville and Ginny had been working for weeks, magically increasing the growing speed of the corn to make stalks that towered above people’s heads. From the outside, the maze seemed small. But he knew Ginny had worked with Hermione to create a much larger space inside. There were five different paths you could take. One easy, one medium, and one hard, as well as one meant for little kids with next to no scares and one that was considered extra scary. He and Ginny chose the easy path.

“Alright,” Ginny said after they made a few twists and turns, managing to only hit one dead end. “I suppose you want to know what this big surprise is then?”

“I mean,” Harry said, “yeah, of course, I want to. But if you really don’t want to tell me you don’t have to.”

“No, I’ll tell,” Ginny said, and then took a deep, steadying breath. “Luna and I are engaged.”

“Oh my god!” Harry said, pulling Ginny into a tight hug. “Congrats! Why haven’t you shouted this from the rooftops yet? That's such amazing news!”

“I know I know,” Ginny said with a beaming smile. “I have every intention of shouting it soon enough. The thing is, I have a very large family. A very large, very scattered family. I don’t want the news to be spread from one person to another to another and no one hears it from me and have to repeat it a million times. That’s why I haven’t said anything yet. In two weeks Charlie is flooing in and Bill and Fleur are going to come over to see him. That night I will make the announcement.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Harry says as they hit another dead end. “I’m just so happy for you Gin. The two of you are perfect together.”

Ginny laughed. “I wouldn't go that far.” She said with a smile. “I love the woman, and I know there is no one else for me, but perfect? Hardly. We fight, half the time we can’t figure out what the other is saying, and sometimes her head is so far in the clouds I worry she will never come back down. But perfect is overrated and unrealistic. What really matter isn’t how much you love them when you’re happy and everything is perfect. It’s how much you still love them when you fight when they are driving you insane, and your willingness to fight to get back to when it felt perfect.”

Despite himself, a small smile crept across Harry’s face as he thought back to a sour Slytherin who he suddenly felt the need to make up with. “I think that is extremely good advice,” Harry said. “You should probably pass it along to Hermione.”

Ginny laughed. “You are probably right.” She said, linking her arm through Harry’s. “Now, that is entirely enough about me. What about you Harry?”

Harry’s throat went dry. “What about me?” He asked, heart racing.

“Well,” she started with an air of sarcasm, “you are England’s most eligible bachelor according to the Quibbler.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, “remind me to thank your fiance for that one.”

“I’m serious, though, Harry,” Ginny said. “You are one of the best blokes I know. Why aren’t you seeing anyone? Or even trying to see anyone? Is there anyone you’re even interested in?”

Draco’s face instantly popped into his head. The way the blond smiled at him over dinner, the way their hands brushed, and the dreams. Too late he realized the flush spreading over his cheeks. “Course not.” He said, pointlessly.

“There is!” Ginny said. “Oh, you have to tell me. Who is she? Did she go to school with us? Are you guys together or do you just like her? Have you slept together?”

“Ginny!” He said, startling an enchanted crow on a nearby stalk of corn. “Stop ok. It’s nothing. It’s just a pointless crush on someone who probably doesn’t even want me.”

“If it was so pointless you wouldn’t be worried about it, would you?” She said. “Come on. Please tell me. I told you my secret! What are you so worried about? Is it someone I wouldn’t approve o? Oh gods, is it Hermione?”

“What?’ Harry exclaimed. “No! Of course not. It’s just… well… they’re a Slytherin.”

Ginny smiled and turned Harry to face her. “Harry,” she said in her most serious voice, “Hogwarts was a long time ago. Are you seriously getting hung up on what house this mystery crush was in?”

It’s more about it being this particular Slytherin. “You have a point I suppose,” Harry said, keeping his other thought to himself. “There is one other thing, though… It’s a guy.”

Ginny’s eyes got slightly wide before she replied. “Oh.” She said. “Well, that certainly is a surprise. So earlier, when we were dancing, all those questions were about you, not Neville.

Harry scuffed the ground with his toe. “Yeah,” he said, not meeting her penetrating gaze. “It’s not a big deal or anything. I’m not sure I’m even… well… you know.”

“Gay?” Ginny supplied, unhelpfully.

“Yeah, that.”

“Well,” she said, biting her lips again, “to be honest, I’m not sure it particularly matter all that much. So you like a guy? In reality, it’s not that much different than liking a girl. The parts are just different downstairs.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Harry said, finally spying the end of the corn maze.

“So,” Ginny said, “who is this mystery bloke that has caught your fancy?”

“Harry, Ginny!” A voice interrupted from the end of the maze. After a few more yards, Harry saw Neville running up to them.

“This is not the end of the discussion,” Ginny said quietly under her breath before sending Neville a big smile and a hug. “Hey Nev, it’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Neville said. “But I thought I should warn you that Percy is here and apparently having some sort of disagreement with your band about some permit not being filed.

“”Oh that bugger,” Ginny said. “I’ll kill him one day. Sorry Harry, we can talk later.” And with that, she was off.

Harry had to admit he wasn’t disappointed to see her go. Sure, he could admit being into a guy and a Slytherin, but there was something that made him want to keep Draco all to himself, at least for the time being.

“I would not want to be on the bad end of that woman,” Neville said, sounding partially concerned and partially amused.

“Just be happy you never dated her,” Harry replied with a shudder. They both laughed.

For a few moments, they were quiet as they made their way back inside past an extremely cross looking Ginny. Harry was just about to lose himself in his thoughts again when Neville spoke up.

“So, about what I was asking earlier,” Neville said, voice trailing off at the end.

“I’m sorry, Neville,“ Harry said. “Remind me what you were asking me about? And perhaps start at the beginning?”

“Oh, sure,” Neville said, perking up a bit. “Well, like I had said before, you know that I have spent the last couple of years training under Professor Sprout and helping out at Hogwarts. It’s been fantastic, we have been working on a line of Christmas trees whose needles disappear as soon as they hit the floor. Really helps save time on cleaning.”

“That does sound really useful,” Harry said.

Neville beamed at the compliment. “It really will be. I’m hoping to get it done in time for the Christmas season this year.” Neville cleared his throat before continuing. “Anyways, here's the thing. Pomona admitted to me that she is thinking of retiring at the end of the school year and she want’s me to take over. It’s such an amazing opportunity, but I’m not sure I’m ready. Do you think I should do it?”

Harry was genuinely elated for his friend. “Of course you should do it, Neville!” Harry said, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “You were born for that position. No one knows herbology like you do.”

Neville flushed again but his smile didn’t falter. “I really want to. Teaching is really rewarding and fun.” He said. “I wish you would consider coming and working at Hogwart’s, Harry. I think you would really enjoy it there and Merlin knows those kids would learn more from you than they are from the silly dark arts professor we have now.”

Harry laughed into his now empty glass. He didn't remember grabbing another drink, much less finishing one. “As much as you may believe that’s true,” he said with a shrug, “I highly doubt it. I am a shite teacher. Besides, I already have a job.”

“That’s not true, Harry,” Neville said. “Every single one of us in the DA learned loads of useful spells from you. A lot of us wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you.”

“Well,” Harry said, scrubbing at the back of his hair and trying to keep the blush from his cheeks, “even if that is true, I already have a job. Like I said. A good job in fact.”

“I know you do,” Neville said. “If you recall, I spent a bit of time doing it with you. All I’m saying is you can’t be an Auror forever. If you change your mind, at least consider Hogwarts, alright?”

And with that, Neville walked away leaving Harry with even more questions he found himself unable and unwilling to answer. All of the uncertainty was giving him a headache.

“Hello, Harry.” Said Fred as he approached.

“Something wrong?” George said. “You look a little…”

“...blue.” The twins finished together.

“It doesn’t matter how many times you guys do that,” Harry replied, “it will always freak me out on some level.”

Fred and George grinned. “Sorry Harry.” They again said together.

“But really,” George said, “what’s wrong?”

“You look like someone just told you Draco Malfoy was your new Auror partner,” Fred replied.

“Why does everyone keep saying shite like that?” Harry mumbled not entirely to himself. “It’s nothing really. Just got a lot on my mind. How about you two? How’s that ferret candy turning out?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Fred said. 

“It’s going to be brilliant,” George finished.

“Currently, we are in the third testing phase.” Fred continued. “As of now the only kink we seem to be having trouble working out is that after the effects wear off, your hair can stay purple for weeks.”

“Can’t seem to work out why,” said Fred, “but it seems to primarily affect redheads and blondes. You wouldn’t want to give it a go would you?”

Harry shuddered at the thought, but briefly considered dosing Malfoy with one tomorrow. That thought made him grin. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.” He said, grimacing again.

“Suit yourself.” The twins said in unison.

“So how about the business itself?” Harry asked. “I noticed the numbers seemed a little odd for the last quarter and I was wondering if…”

But Harry never did get to finish his thought. Just as he was about to suggest what may have been a very good idea to his business partners, the doors of the hall came flying open and crashed into the walls with a thundering bang. The sound was so jarring that the band even stopped playing. As soon as they did, Harry felt a small pool of fear collect in his limbs. Though it must have only been a moment or two, the next steps he took felt as if they had taken forever. Harry quickly turned while drawing his wand, a stunning spell on his lips. However, upon seeing the gate crasher, the fear he had felt before immediately increased and he felt like he could vomit. There, standing in the doorway, was the person he least expected to see. The unexpected guest only had one thing to say about their abrupt entrance.

“Whoops.”


	15. Chapter 15

Draco had always hated Halloween. Ok, that was a lie. Up until this year, he had loved it. The bright costumes, the decorations, and the opportunity to be someone else for a day was fun and exciting. In school he and Blaise had done everything in their power to out prank the other, generally using first years as targets. Draco always won. Theo even made a crown for him in 5th year to commemorate half a decade of him being the king of Slytherin pranksters. Every year he looked forward to what outrageous costume Pansy cooked up and every year the amount of cleavage she showed grew as quickly as the length of her skirt disappeared. One year she made her entire costume of nothing but lace and fairy dust. Sometimes he admired her complete lack of shame.  
  
Unfortunately, since going into hiding, his Halloweens had typically consisted of watching trashy muggle films and drinking himself stupid. However, even that was better than pining for some wanker who didn’t care about him. As excited as he admittedly was for seeing his old mates again, there was a pit of tension in his stomach that hadn’t waned since he left Potter’s the previous night. Despite himself, Draco missed the bloody idiot. And with his newly realized feelings, things had just become undoubtedly more complicated. That with the looming threat on his life, Draco was no longer certain why he was still walking up to Pansy’s townhome and knocking on the door when all sense was saying he should just go home and drink himself stupid again. At least that was unlikely to get him killed.  
  
Yet here he was, door opening nearly as soon as his hand left the knocker, being ushered inside by a festive looking house elf who had used old dish towels to make a costume that looked vaguely like a princess, or maybe a fairy. Draco was secretly a bit amused, but his fears quickly returned as he heard the uproar coming from the lower floors. There was no backing out now. With a steadying breath, he made his way through the unfamiliar halls of his oldest friend’s new home and opened the door to the party.  
  
Whatever Draco had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t the scene in front of him. Despite appearances from the outside, the inside of the building was huge, if the size of the ballroom was any indication. And the decorations! Draco was truly blown away. Along each wall were rows of tables filled with all manner of horrific looking food that he just knew tasted like heaven, the ceiling was enchanted to appear like a stormy sky complete with ghouls flying by on occasion, and everywhere black candles floated just above the reach of the guests casting eerie shadows everywhere you looked. The candles combined with the green and purple fairy lights draped in arches above the tables reflected and danced through the enchanted fog covering the dance floor. But by far the most impressive element of the ambiance was the addition of walls that would bleed and ooze. Draco and Pansy had worked together throughout 5th year to create the charm. If you touched the walls your hands would appear red and feel slimy for a few minutes before fading away. He was thrilled so see she has included it.  
  
“Draco, my darling.” Pansy’s voice broke through his observations and he couldn’t help but smile. No matter how bad things got, at least he would always have her. “I am beyond thrilled you decided to join my little soiree.”  
  
Draco snorted. “Little?” He teased. “Pans, I’m decently sure you have invited nearly every Slytherin I’ve ever met. Not to mention the fact that you got The Whomping Willows to play.”  
  
“Yes, well,” she said, with a smirk. “It helps that little Theo is having it off with the bass player. But enough about that and more about me. How do you like my costume?”  
  
Draco took a step back to properly appraise her newest look. Despite being one of the longest dresses Draco had ever seen on his exhibitionist best friend, somehow the outfit remained one of her most revealing to date. The dress itself was fairly plain, simply a skin tight, white sheath style dress with a slit up each side that reached her hip. However, the material was very nearly transparent and appeared to be made of shimmering acromantula silk. Beneath the dress he plainly could see her well-adorned knickers, the black fabric of which was covered in gems that caught the light. She was wearing a bra to match, which was also sheer, and had gems purposefully covering what little she left to the imagination. In addition to the dress, she was covered in so many gold bangles, rings, and necklaces, whose stones matched those on her undergarments, that Draco was slightly concerned she would tip over. Finishing her loud ensemble was heavy makeup, even for her, and hair done up in many little braids threaded with golden thread and pearls.  
  
“I’m Cleopatra!” Pansy exclaimed before Draco could form a response. “Don’t you just love it? I’m positively dripping with regality.”  
  
Draco shook his head and smiled up at her. “Well I will say this, love,” he said as he linked his arm with hers, “you have certainly outdone yourself, my queen.”  
  
Pansy giggled. “I’m simply assuming my rightful place in the world, darling.”  
  
Draco laughed as they made their way over toward a bar he hadn't initially noticed being manned by a very convincing mummy. As they walked, Draco couldn't help noticing the many pairs of eyes following him. The faint prickles of nervousness began to flutter in his stomach before he realized why they were staring. It had been over 5 years since anyone had seen him after he disappeared with no explication. Draco held his head a bit higher and mentally checked that his famous Malfoy mask was firmly in place. He doubted anyone was brave enough to dare approach him, and he was secretly happy his reputation still intact.  
  
“So what’s your poison, darling?” Pansy asked as she nuzzled his shoulder. He suppressed a shudder at her poor choice of words. “There's blood punch, ghouls breath, dragons piss, and a margarita of my own design I like to call Slyther-in because is guaranteed to get anyone to slither into your bed.” Her description was followed by her slightly manic cackle. She had always thought she was quite funny.  
  
Draco scowled. He knew he should be smart and choose the dragons piss, which was likely some firewhiskey cocktail. But, partially to spite Potter, he knew what he wanted. “Give me a margarita.” He said.  
  
Pansy grinned evilly. “Good choice.” As she grabbed two forest green drinks swimming with silver glitter, he knew instantly that this likely would not end well. And 4 drinks later, he knew he was right.  
  
By this point, most of the party was pleasantly pissed and had stopped being afraid to come up to him. Most didn't ask where he had been, and simply welcomed him back and made pleasant small talk. When people occasionally did ask, pansy gave them a glare that could rival medusa on a mad day. It became clear to him that she had made it plain to everyone that, were he to show up, they were not to ask him anything of the sort. Again, he could not be any more grateful for his best friend.  
  
It wasn't until he saw the dark form of a pirate strolling toward them that he froze. In all his enjoyment he had forgotten that, at an entirely Slytherin alum party, he was likely to run into the last person he wanted to see.  
  
“Hello, Draco,” the smooth voice of Blaise Zabini drawled. “Long time no see.”  
  
Draco felt his heart leap into his throat. “Hello, Blaise. It has been a while hasn't it?”  
  
“Well,” Pansy said, “I think I'm going to go be anywhere other than here. Good luck!” And with that, she quickly made her way to a group including Millicent Bulstrode.  
  
“So,” Blaise began, actually seeming a bit nervous. “Do you want to go check out the graveyard?”  
  
Draco nodded and stood. They were both quiet on their way out the back door. Draco was again stunned when he stepped outside. A sprawling yard was before them that he was certain wasn't as big as it seemed, and it was possibly even more decorated than the inside had been. As far as the eye could see there were tombs, gravestones, and creepy trees draped with cobwebs. Owls and Ravens perched throughout the space and a fine mist clung to the ground and swirled as unseen creatures slunk their way between obstacles. Many of the graves were upturned and drops of what appeared to be blood were everywhere.  
  
“She's really outdone herself this time,” Blaise said with the hint of a smile playing across his face.  
  
“Well she always does, doesn't she?” Draco said. “She can't let herself be outdone, even by herself.”  
  
“Well,” Blaise replied with a smirk, “I suspect this year she felt an especially large amount of pressure, trying to impress you and all.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Draco asked, truly confused.  
  
“Let's see,” Blaise said, with an air of his usual sarcasm playing across his voice. “The ever mysterious Draco Malfoy, whom no one has seen in half a decade, decides to finally grace us with his presence. She, being your best friend, as well as secretly still fancying you just a bit, had to make sure his highness’s return to society is the event of the year, if not the decade. Sound familiar?”  
  
Draco would have been put out if not for the sly smile ghosting across the other man's features. “Shove off, Blaise. He said. “She doesn't fancy me.”  
  
Blaise snorted. “Whatever you say.” Blaise shuffled slightly awkwardly, clearly with something else to say. “Look, Draco, about Mexico.”  
  
“No,” Draco said firmly. “We are not doing this. We don't do this.”  
  
“Wait a minute,” Blaise said, running his hand along his head. “Let me say this. I don't care what we ‘don’t’ do. The way I treated you was abysmal. You were at a super vulnerable place in your life and needed a true friend, and I wasn't. We had been drinking heavily and what you did shocked me. I should have looked for you after that. It wasn't right for me to just let you walk away. I'm sorry.”  
  
Draco was shocked. He didn't know what he had expected were he to ever see Blaise again, but it certainly wasn't this. Without realizing it, this was a conversation he had been wanting to have for a very long time. “Thank you, Blaise.” He said, and hastily continued as Blaise went to say more looking doubtful. “No, I mean it. I messed up that day, but you're right. I did need a friend. But it's been a long time since Mexico. I vote we put it behind us a move on to new adventures.” Draco stuck out his hand to Blaise and waited.  
  
Blaise was smiling now. “To new adventures.” The two shook hands and downed the rest of their drinks.  
  
It was mere seconds later that with a tray of drinks floating behind her. “So,” she said, smiling her evil smile again, “you two kiss and make up yet?” Both Blaise and Draco shot her nasty glares. “Kidding kidding.”  
  
They each took a drink from the tray and looked around a bit. Suddenly they heard a smack from behind a tomb a bit away, and all looked at each other in shock. A moment later, a very disgruntled looking girl in a racy author costume came rushing out of the bushes. Just a moment later Theodore Nott came out as well, buttoning up the trousers of his convict costume with a bright red mark on left cheek. As he passed the trio, he shrugged and followed his angry date inside. As soon as he was out of earshot, the three looked at each other and burst out laughing.  
  
It was a solid ten minutes later that they stopped laughing, all three coughing and sputtering inelegantly. Draco truly had trouble catching his breath. He truly had missed these two.  
  
By the time Draco was on drink 7, wait, no 8, he was far too drunk for his own good. Yet despite the distraction, he couldn't stop thinking about Har-no POTTER. Damn he was never going to get the hang of that. How had his lifelong habit switched so quickly?  
  
“Why are you so scowly all of a sudden Draco?” Pansy whined.  
  
“No reason.” Draco lied, unconvincingly.  
  
“Oh, I know what it is!” Pansy squealed excitedly. “Oh but I've sworn not to tell!”  
  
Blaise grinned and swigged his dragons piss deeply. “Oh come now.” He said as steam seeped out from between his teeth. “There's no secrets between old friends.”  
  
“If you must know,” Pansy drawled, completely unaffected by Draco’s glare, “our little Dray is in love.”  
  
“First of all,” Draco said around a hiccup, “I have warned you repeatedly not to call me that. Second, I am most certainly not in love with that pompous ass.”  
  
Pansy pouted. “But I thought things with Duncan were going so well.”  
  
Duncan. Right. His -well whatever he was. Of course that was who she was talking about. “Oh, yes,” Draco said, scrambling to recover. Fucking tequila. He knew this was a bad idea. “Well about that…”  
  
“I knew it!” Pansy exclaimed, throwing her fist in the air and sloping margarita all down her front. She didn't seem to notice, and Blaise did a quick scourgify on her. “You do love the boy wonder!”  
  
“Boy wonder?” Blaise said, with his right eyebrow raised so high it appeared to be attempting to escape his face. “Clearly, I have missed a lot these five years.”  
  
“Well, it's really only been interesting the last few months.” Begrudgingly, Draco realized there was no getting out of this. Leaving out some key details about Harr-shit Potter, Draco launched into the story of what had been happening since he left his parents house. By the time he finished, Blaise was looking quite shocked and Pansy was looking extremely pleased with herself.  
  
“So,” Blaise said inquisitively, “why exactly is our lovely queen here under the impression that you are in love with him?”  
  
Draco took a breath and decided to take a gamble. “Well, she isn't entirely wrong.”  
  
“Ha!” Pansy said with flourish. “As I said so many damn times, I was fucking right.”  
  
“Well, I'm not exactly in love with him.” Draco retorted. “But there is… Something there. At least I thought there was.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Blaise said. “Either you want him or you don't.”  
  
“It's not my feelings I'm questioning,” Draco said, refusing to meet either of their gazes.  
  
“What did he do?” Pansy asked sucking the dregs of her drink with a straw.  
  
“Did you guys know there was an alumni party in Godric’s Hollow tonight?” Draco asked. Both his friend nodded. “Well, unsurprisingly, Harry and all his Gryffindor cronies are there. Yet, despite everything that's transpired, Potter made it exceptionally clear that I was not welcome.”  
  
Blaise looked affronted but said nothing. Pansy, however, had a dangerous gleam in her eye that usually preceded something that Draco would later regret. “I think I know what the perfect conclusion to our evening should be.”  
  
Blaise was the first to reply. “Pansy,” he said dangerously, “that is a terrible idea. We are absolutely not doing that.”  
  
“Oh yes, we are,” Pansy said with authority. “It is an alumni party after all. And we are alumni.”  
  
Realization dawned on Draco like a cold wave. This was a terrible idea. Yet…  
  
“Let's do it,” Draco said. He knew, even then, that it was the tequila talking more than him yet he couldn't have stopped himself if he tried.  
  
“Are we seriously going to crash a party filled with people who genuinely wished to never see us again?” Blaise asked, exasperated.  
  
Pansy smiled her evil smile one final time. “Yes, we are.” She glanced inside and her smile widened. “And we won't be doing it alone.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Half an hour later, Draco’s heart was hammering more than it had when he'd been told he'd been poisoned. Despite the copious amounts of tequila he had consumed, at the moment he felt dead sober. Standing behind him, the entire group of Slytherins Pans had coaxed away from the party were talking excitedly. To them, this was as simple as crashing a party. For this lot, there was nothing to lose. Possibly a few hexes and jinxes, but nothing they couldn't expertly avoid or redouble upon those who wished them ill.  
  
To Draco, however, this was everything. No one here aside from Harry knew he had returned. And certainly, no one suspected anything that had transpired between them during his time at the Black ancestral home. It was a small miracle he hadn't regurgitated his tequila this far.  
  
Yet part of him was excited. Though he had arrived at Pansy’s party costumeless, she had expertly managed to procure a costume for him from some poor soul. Against his better judgment, Draco was now clad in a prince costume. Pansy had assured him that going in dressed as Prince Charming was a sure fire way to get exactly the attention he wanted from his “paramour.” Her words, not his. He did have to admit, the emerald green, silver, and black costume did make him look rather dashing. If Harry didn't notice him in this… He shook his head and didn't allow those thoughts to continue. As they approached the door, to the hall housing the party, Draco took a few steadying breaths.  
  
“You ready for this?” Blaise said from beside him.  
  
“Not even remotely,” Draco said and then smirked. “Let's do it.”  
  
With Pansy to his left and Blaise to his right, the silver trio threw open the doors and strutted in. The looks of utter shock on everyone's face nearly made all the nerves bubbling in Draco’s stomach worth it. Everywhere he looked, people he never thought he would be in the same room as again gaped at their arrival, some looking mildly impressed. Draco smirked as Pansy wound her arm around his torso.  
  
“Whoops,” Draco said as they entered  
  
“Sorry for the late arrival,” Blaise said, with a wink at a younger girl Draco vaguely remembered as being in Hufflepuff. The girl looked like she may faint. Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
“Well, now it's a party!” Pansy said hand planted firmly on her hip.  
  
As the Slytherins fanned out through the crowd, people began to slowly go back to whatever they had been doing, though many kept a wary eye on the new guests.  
  
Draco barely noticed anything around him, however, as from the moment he entered the room he could see nothing other than the beautiful man standing right in the middle of the crowd. Harry. Draco was roused from his trance when two tall, lanky redhead's stalked out of the crowd. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought he was seeing double.  
  
“What the hell are they doing here?” One of the twins said, fury radiating off him.  
  
“If I'm not mistaken, Weasley,” Blaise said, coolly, “this is an alumni party. Seeing as we are all alumni, we have as much right to be here as you do.”  
  
Ron Weasley made his way from Harry’s side, face as red as a tomato. “No one wants you here.” He said with conviction Draco wouldn't have thought him capable of. Still, Draco’s eyes never left Harry’s.  
  
Surprisingly, it was the female Weasley who spoke up. “Honestly, Ron, Zabini is right.” She said, with a knowing smile and a brief glance between Harry and Draco. “It is an alumni party and if they want to stay and not make trouble they are just as welcome as anyone else.  
  
Ron and the twins gaped at their sister with mouths hanging open like fish. Clearly at a loss for words, Ginny rolled her eyes at her brothers. “Welcome to the party.” She said with only a mild amount of sarcasm before wandering back to her friends.  
  
As soon as she was out of immediate earshot, the twins began to roll up their sleeves. “Want us to take care of him?” They asked in unison, the question clearly aimed at Harry.  
  
Harry swallowed deeply and shook his head. “No.” He said with an air of uncertainty. “I’ve got it.”  
  
Harry matched straight up to Draco, still not breaking his eye contact. Draco swallowed deeply in response. This was it. There was truly no turning back now. Still, he found himself fully unable to say anything to the man who had fully dominated his thoughts for longer than he cared to admit to himself.  
  
In an instant, Harry was so close to Draco that he could nearly feel the other man’s breath ghosting across his face. In fact, they were so close together that Draco could actually smell him. The effect was intoxicating. Harry, at the moment, smelled like licorice, treacle tart, and the unmistakable musk of man. Draco’s head felt like it was swimming and he could barely breathe. Though, if Harry’s blown pupils and quick intake of breath were any indication, Draco was not the only one affected.  
  
However, the moment was over almost before it began, as the green eyes before Draco again filled with rage. Harry grabbed the front of Draco’s robes and nearly growled as he said, “you, outside, now.”  
  
Pansy quirked and eyebrow at Draco and Harry’s antics, but otherwise said nothing. She simply disentangled herself from Draco’s side and attached herself to Blaise. “We’ll be getting refreshments if you need us.” She said with a smile before they finally made their way through the throngs of people still eying them to the overcrowded bar. Draco knows he had no choice but to follow Harry.  
  
  
Despite convincing himself he was ready for this when he had Pansy and Blaise at his side, Draco realized as soon as the large doors closed behind him and he was alone with Harry that he was anything but. The anxiety was coursing through him as they made their way past a large corn maze and farther and farther away from the party. Draco was fairly certain Harry could hear his heart pounding even from 10 paces ahead. Yet they kept walking.  
  
Finally, the pair made it around a corner to a garden overflowing with all manner of flowers that it very nearly rivaled the garden he had left behind at a manor. When they hit the middle of the garden, Draco nearly laughed when Harry finally stopped. All around them were roses Draco would know anywhere: purple petals trimmed with near metallic silver that caught the moonlight and sent a kaleidoscope of sparkles over the path before them. These were his mother's roses.  
  
It was a few moments before either man spoke. When Harry turned, his emerald eyes were shining with rage and confusion. He seemed like he was fumbling for his words, though that wasn't particularly unusual for him. Draco smirked and the action finally seemed to incense Harry into outburst.  
  
“What. The. Fuck.” Harry raged. “What the fuck are you doing here?”  
  
“Well,” Draco drawled with an arrogant air he didn't actually feel, “I was under the impression this was an alumni party.” His words echoed the earlier sentiment Blaise had said, though Harry hardly seemed to notice.  
  
Harry room a steadying breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he said, gritting his teeth with the effort to not explode, “it is an alumni party. That is not why I'm asking and you damn well know it. I mean, with all the dangers and all the people after you, what the actual fuck are you doing here? Are you demented?”  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes and flipped a strand of hair from his eyes. “Well you would know something about that, wouldn't you, Potter?”  
  
“No,” Harry said, “we are not playing the insult game right now. I don't have anywhere close to the patience to deal with your petty crap. After everything I've done for you-”  
  
“As usual, it's always about you isn't it?” Draco said, significantly louder than he had intended.  
  
Harry stood there and blinked a few times and shook his head. “About me?” He asked. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“As per usual,” Draco drawled, “it's all about the risk to Saint Potter. If something happens to me, especially in front of all your little Gryffindor twats, how on earth would that make you look? I'm sure the papers would have a field day with that, though they would undoubtedly find some way to make you appear the hero. I can see the headlines now! ‘Harry Potter suffers tragic loss as he bravely attempts to save the cursed death eater.’ Rita would love that exclusive.”  
  
“How can you even say that!” Harry yelled, small sparks of errant magic shooting from his fingertips. “You think I saved you for the bloody glory? You must be insane! I've been breaking my back trying to protect you and you- you just- you don't- fuck!”  
  
“I don't what?” Draco yelled, matching Harry equally for rage now. “Sorry, I'm not one of your simpering fans getting down on my knees to praise you for holding me up in a decrepit old house crying on your shoulder about how you're my hero.”  
  
“Have I ever given you a single inclination that I'm the kind of person who would want that.”  
  
“Ooo look at Potter with the big boy vocabulary.”  
  
“Brilliant retort, Malfoy. Been working on that in the mirror?”  
  
“Why do you even care?” Draco asked. “You made it perfectly clear that you want nothing from me! Why does it matter if I came with people who actually give a fuck, my actual friends, to a party you just happen to be at.”  
  
“Gods, you just don’t get it!” Harry said, louder than was strictly necessary. “The Great Draco Malfoy, always knows the answer to everything, knows why everything happens, and has a response for everything. But this time, you’re wrong. You honestly have no idea what’s going on.”   
  
Draco’s eyes sparked with rage, but his voice dropped dangerously low when he responded. “Is that so, Potter?” Draco said, stepping right into Harry’s space, close enough that he could see flecks of hazel in his eyes.   
  
“Well, since I’m so fucking clueless, why don’t you enlighten me? What about me is so abysmal that you couldn’t even stand to be at the same party as me? Are you really that ashamed to admit to being friends with me?”   
  
“I don’t want to be your friend Draco.” Harry snapped back.   
  
At this, Draco took a step back, bile rising in his throat and realizing that coming here was a very very bad idea. “That’s interesting,” he said, “especially considering the fact that being friends was your idea in the first place. But I get it, who could be friends with a Death Eater.”   
  
Immediately the rage drained from Harry’s eyes and he looked a bit startled. “No,” he started, “that’s not what I meant. Fuck, why do I have to get so tongue tied talking to you?” Harry shook his head and took two deep, steadying breaths. “It’s not that I’m ashamed of you. It’s not that I don’t want to be your friend. It’s that I don’t want to be just your friend.” With that, Harry turned away from Draco and took a few steps away.  
  
 A moment passed then another and another, but Draco was completely at a loss for words. His blood was pumping in his ears and his stomach and kept into his throat. “Potter,” Draco said, frustrated. But Harry wouldn’t turn.“Potter no,” Draco repeated, as Harry began to walk away. Somehow Draco needed to make him understand. “Please, stop,” Draco begged. Harry’s steps faltered for a moment, but he didn't stop. If anything, his speed increased. Suddenly Draco was desperate.   
  
All he had wanted for weeks was this man. Draco Realized that now. He couldn't give up this easily. “Potter, please,” Draco said, “Harry.”   
  
Immediately, Harry stopped. Slowly, Harry turned and met Draco's eyes. The look in the man's eyes was so charged it struck through Draco like an arrow. In that instant, the very air around them seemed to still. Somewhere in the distant Draco was sure there was movement and sound of the party they had vacated, yet all he could see were the fiery green eyes in front of him.  
  
Just as quickly as everything slowed down, it suddenly sped up and Harry had closed the distance between them. They were so close that Draco could feel the other man's breath on his lips and it nearly undid him.  
  
Harry only hesitated a moment before crashing their lips together. It was rough and hungry and just so incredibly Harry. Draco reacted on instinct and wound his hands into Harry’s surprisingly soft hair, pulling the man closer to him. Draco couldn’t help the small moan that escaped his lips as Harry swiped his tongue across Draco’s lower lip, seeking entrance. The brunette quickly took the opportunity presented to him and let his tongue slip into Draco’s mouth, tentatively exploring and swirling his tongue with Draco’s. It took everything in him to stay standing.  
  
Then, just as suddenly as the kiss began, Draco remembered who he is. There was no way he was letting someone else have all the power. With a start, Draco took over. Putting his hands on Harry’s waist, he slowly backed the man into a nearby column he had noticed before. Now it was Harry’s turn to moan as Draco slowly pushed his leg between the man's, happy when he felt the hard bulge on his thigh. Draco smirked against Harry’s mouth before capturing his lip between his teeth, sucking gently and causing his hand to scrape right down Draco’s back.  
  
Draco began to pepper kisses across Harry’s cheek, down his neck, and nibbling slightly on his collar bone. By now their bodies were flush with one another. Draco could feel every beat of Harry’s heart which was as erratic as his own. With a smile, he slowly made his way back to Harry’s lips, kissing them slow and deliberate, trying his best to pour everything he needed to say into the kiss. Harry smiled then and Draco pulled back slightly, just enough to rest their foreheads together. With a smile, he plucks a single purple rose from behind Harry’s head and hands it to the still panting man before him.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes but took it, blushing slightly. “Draco,” he says, so quiet it's barely audible.  
  
Draco placed yet another kiss on Harry’s lips, reveling in the mere fact that, at least for right now, he has everything he never knew he wanted. Despite all his earlier reservations, all his worries, this was truly bliss.  
  
“Take me home.” Draco whispers, not breaking eye contact any longer than it takes to blink.  
  
Harry lets go of a breath he had apparently been holding. “As you wish,” he says.  
  
Without warning, Draco tightened his grip around Harry’s waist, smiled slyly, and with a pop, they were gone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, I actually posted something! It's been a while, I hope you guys haven't forgotten about me. I hope you like this chapter, which has been a very, very long time coming. Hopefully, there will be more soon. Loove you guys!

The moment the double doors to the party opened, Harry felt he should have been far less shocked than he was. After all, Draco Malfoy’s sole purpose in life seemed to be crashing into his life unannounced and ruining any semblance of calm he had acquired. Yet, despite knowing this, Harry was floored when the blonde came into the light of the party with a self-satisfied smirk, Pansy Parkinson casually draped around him, and Blaise Zabini at his side.

“Whoops,” Draco said casually, eyes boring into Harry as if they were the only two in the room.

Harry was vaguely aware that others were talking around them, but he couldn’t be arsed to care. For Harry, there was no one else in the room than Draco sodding Malfoy, not that this was different from the way he had always been. The difference being, this time, the flame of unquenchable anger was muddled up with an equally strong pang of lust and longing.

Part of the reaction was likely due to the fact that the Slytherin looks gorgeous. He was clearly meant to be Prince Charming, costume a mix of emerald green, black, and silver velvet and silk, the effect of which was startling. Draco looked every bit the Slytherin Prince, and it made Harry’s mouth go dry. Despite the anger still humming in his veins, the need to reach out and touch was incredible. Draco had never looked more handsome.

Hearing the twins offer to “take care” of him finally brought Harry out of his near trance, and he knew immediately that nothing good would come of that. He shook his head slightly and forced his mind to get back on track and out of the bedroom. “No, I've got it.” He said, before forcibly dragging the infuriating blonde out into the gardens beyond the banquet hall.

The next few minutes were a blur for Harry. Rage and confusion and longing all swirled together to create the perfect storm. He was certain he had spat more than a few things he didn't mean to say and more than a few that he did. It was like being at Hogwarts again. Something about this man made Harry’s blood boil. The only difference now was instead of wanting to slam the git into a wall and pummel him, he wanted to slam him into a wall and fuck him until he came apart in his hands.

Those thoughts were not going to help. Fucking focus. 

“As usual it's always about you isn't it?” Draco said.

Something Draco’s tone, in the hurt in his eyes, drained Harry’s anger from him. None of this was about him. It has always been about Draco. Saving Draco, caring about Draco, wanting Draco, falling for Draco; no, this was never about Harry. “About me?” He asked. “What are you talking about?”

More words, more fighting, but all Harry could really feel was the magic buzzing around him. At this point, he wasn’t even sure what either of them was saying. His feelings were so muddled up inside him that if Draco pushed him too much farther he was going to explode.

“Well, since I’m so fucking clueless, why don’t you enlighten me?” Draco said, in a voice so full of poison Harry felt as if he might burn. “What about me is so abysmal that you couldn’t even stand to be at the same party as me? Are you really that ashamed to admit to being friends with me?” 

“I don’t want to be your friend Draco.” Harry snapped back.

And there it was. The words Harry had been trying so hard to ignore, so hard not to say. Because, the fact of the matter was, that statement was truer than anything he had said all night. Being friends with Draco Malfoy was nowhere close to enough.

“That’s interesting,” he said, “especially considering the fact that being friends was your idea in the first place. But I get it, who could be friends with a Death Eater.” 

Crap. Harry realized far too late how those words must sound. “No,” he started, “that’s not what I meant. Fuck, why do I have to get so tongue tied talking to you?” Harry shook his head and took two deep, steadying breaths. “It’s not that I’m ashamed of you. It’s not that I don’t want to be your friend. It’s that I don’t want to be just your friend.”

In the next instant, a million things crossed over Draco’s face. But more than any was shock. Harry, on the other hand, mostly felt like he was going to throw up. He had to get away from here. As he turned to leave, Draco tried to stop him. Harry wouldn’t look back though. He just couldn’t see the disgust or pity or anger in this man’s beautiful eyes, not after what he had just admitted.

“Potter, please,” Draco said, sounding desperate, “Harry.”

At that, Harry stopped. Draco had used his name, his real name. Not in jest, not mocking him, but pleading. Despite himself, Harry turned. The man in front of him looked nothing like Harry was expecting. Those beautiful silver eyes looked as lost and scared as Harry felt. How could Harry have been so stupid, of course this man wanted him. It had been there this whole time, Harry had just been too scared to admit it. That wouldn’t happen again.

Before Harry knew what he was doing, and before he could talk himself out of it, he quickly closed the difference between them. Harry hesitated just a moment to make sure this was what Draco wanted, before winding his hands into Draco’s silky blonde hair and finally kissing the man who set his soul on fire.

In that instant, time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. Harry felt dizzy with pleasure as they finally turned the tension that had kept them so tightly wound into each other. After a moment, Draco backed Harry up against something hard and pulled them even closer together. With anyone else, Harry might have been embarrassed that his bulging erection was so obvious, but if the hardness pressing into Harry’s hip was any indication, Draco was just as affected as he was. As Draco’s lips began to wander, Harry’s head began to swim. He was more than a bit grateful when Draco pulled back, giving Harry a second to breathe.

Harry couldn’t help but smile when Draco pulled out a beautiful purple rose from behind his back.

“Take me home?”

“As you wish.”

Had he been thinking clearly, Harry would have thought better of apparating when his focus was so otherwise occupied. As it was, they had barely landed when Harry found himself with Draco’s hands in his hair and their lips crashing together, so needless to say, Harry was a bit distracted. Thankfully, everything seemed perfectly intact, so Harry wouldn’t let himself dwell on it.

Harry managed to disentangle himself from Draco long enough to open the door.

“Shhh,” Harry said unnecessarily, with a finger to his lips.

Draco rolled his eyes and shooed Harry up the stairs.

The bedroom door was barely closed before they found each other’s lips again. As Draco’s surprisingly warm hands pushed under Harry’s shirt and grazed bare skin for the first time, Harry gasped. Draco wasted no time taking advantage and pushed his tongue into Harry’s open mouth. Harry could no longer think. All he knew was they each had far too much clothing on.

Immediately, Harry pushed Draco's coat to the floor followed quickly by his shirt. Draco wasted no time doing the same. As their bare chests pushed together, Harry moaned into Draco’s mouth. The man was so warm. And flat. And strong. Suddenly, everything hit him. He was kissing Draco. He was kissing a guy. And he liked it. What was left of his composure quickly melted away, as he tried to pull them impossibly closer. In a moment of bravery he didn't really feel, his hand began to trail downwards, agonizingly slowly, before resting on Draco’s hip.

Draco pulled back a fraction of an inch to look at Harry as if asking permission. Harry nodded slightly and smiled, before being slowly backed up until his legs bumped something soft.

The bed. Harry thought, with a shiver that was somewhere between thrill and fear. He was going to sleep with Draco Malfoy. Harry's head was spinning and he couldn't seem to remember which way was up. All he knew was that all that tension and anticipation and frustration had somehow led him here.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Draco groaned as he rested his head against Harry’s in frustration. Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Harry?” Remus asked from the other side of the door. “You alright? I heard you come home but you didn’t come downstairs so I just wanted to check on you.”

“Yeah,” Hary said, clearing his throat so it wouldn’t sound so gravelly. “I just… uh… wanted to get out of my costume. I'll be down in a few minutes.”

Draco raised his eyebrow in surprise but stayed quiet.

“Alright,” Remus said, voice tight and slow. “Well, I’ll be in the kitchen with Sirius when you’re done.”

After a moment, Harry heard the footsteps as Remus headed back downstairs.

“Leaving so soon, Potter?” Draco asked, as Harry stood and began shuffling through his wardrobe for an appropriate shirt and jumper.

Harry smiled at the pout on Draco’s face before kissing him again. “Believe me,” Harry started, “I don’t want to. Let me just go deal with this and then I’ll be back. Please don’t leave.”

Draco regarded him for a moment, before standing and fixing the incorrectly done up buttons with a smile. “Alright,” he said, pulling Harry tight and ghosting a kiss against his cheek. “I can wait for you.”

Harry nodded and then headed out of the room.

The fireplace was roaring when Harry entered the kitchen, Remus and Sirius talking in hushed voices on the loveseat closest to it.

“Hey,” Harry said, startling them both apart. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course,” Sirius said. “You came home earlier than I expected.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry said, shifting from foot to foot, “Draco ended up showing up and making a bit of a scene. I brought him back here.”

Realization dawned on Harry. He left the party with Draco and no one knew where he went. “Bollocks.” He said with a groan. “I actually forgot to let anyone know I was leaving. I should-”

“I’ll go take care of it,” Remus said, with a quick glance to Sirius. “Don’t worry, I won’t reveal anything about what has been happening with Mr. Malfoy. If you’ll excuse me.”

Harry sighed and poured himself a small glass of firewhiskey before settling on the couch with his godfather.

“That good of a night?” Sirius joked.

“Don’t even get me started,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“So,” Sirius asked, regarding Harry slowly, “what kind of scene did Draco make?”

Harry snorted. “Showing up to a party filled with Gryffindor’s who hate him with a bunch of Slytherin’s in tow,” Harry said. “With moves like that he’ll be dead before the Dark Collective even has a chance to find him.”

Sirius laughed wholeheartedly. “Did he really?” Sirius said once he caught his breath. “Sounds to me like he was trying to get someone’s attention.”

Harry blushed but stayed quiet, draining the rest of his drink in one sip and wincing at the burn.

“Harry,” Sirius started soberly, “I need to ask. Is it possible that you may have developed feelings for Mr. Malfoy?”

Harry nearly choked. “I, um,” he stammered, “well you see. What I mean is. Um-”

“It’s alright,” Sirius said, putting a calming hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Maybe I should start.”

With a wave, Sirius summoned the bottle of Ogden’s Old and an extra glass from the counter and poured them each a generous amount. He took a long sip before speaking.

“When I was a kid and your dad took me in, my life was more than a little complicated. I was in a bad place with my family, I was struggling in school because I was always getting in trouble, and I was having a hard time figuring out who the hell I was. The last thing on y mind was love or dating or girls. I just knew I loved spending time with Remus and your father. Nothing else was really on my radar.”

“There were plenty of girls who were interested in me though. For some reason, though, I just didn’t want them back. I blamed my bad upbringing, the war, and anything else you can think of. It wasn’t until James fell in love with your other that I began to notice something. Suddenly, I found myself spending less and less time with your father and more and more time with Remus. I also found I didn’t particularly mind.”

“One night, about six months before your parents got married, the three of us were on a mission for the Order casing a known Death Eater hot spot. While we waited, Remus decided to tell us the truth about something. I remember him saying that, in case things went pear-shaped, he wanted us to know the truth. That was the night he told us he was gay.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Sirius held up a hand to silence him.

“That was the night that everything began to change. Obviously, none of us died. Suddenly I had trouble being around Remus. I felt awkward and uncomfortable but I didn’t know why.One day, your dad confronted me about it. He told me he noticed I hadn’t been around as much if Remus was there. I tried to lie but your dad wasn’t having it. Merlin your dad was smart. He saw something that I had been denying to myself for years.”

“I remember he took my hands and told me ‘It’s ok if you love him, Sirius. I would never judge. But our futures are not certain. You need to tell him.’”

Sirius laughed and finished his drink.

“Long story short, I did. I went to Remus that day and told him how I felt. Remus laughed and told me it was about time.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. Suddenly everything was starting to make sense.

“Look, Harry, all I’m trying to say is this. I’m not saying I understand why you would choose a Malfoy of all people, but it’s k if you do. If you want him, it’s ok with both Remus and I. We will support you.”

Harry smiled and threw his arms around his godfather. “Thank you, Sirius.” He whispered before heading quickly back upstairs to the amazing man waiting for him.

As soon as Harry was back in the room, Draco kissed him again and smiled. “You taste good,” he said between kisses. “Like firewhiskey.”

Harry laughed. “Your ability to pick that up leads me to believe you drink too much.” Harry teased.

“Hardly,” Draco said, poshly. “I simply have a highly refined palette.”

“That apparently extends to the inside of my mouth,” Harry replied, pulling Draco in for another kiss, enjoying the fact that he could.

When Draco began to wind a hand below Harry’s shirt, Harry was suddenly hit with a wave of guilt. There was so much Draco didn’t know. Harry didn’t want to start things this way. With a lie.

Harry sighed deeply with regret. As much as it pained him to do so, he had to tell Draco the truth. If they were going to go forward with- whatever this was- he deserved to at least know the truth. Gently, he pushed the man back and was met with a look of confusion.

“Draco,” he said, trepidation clear in his voice, “I need to tell you something. I need to tell you the truth.”

A brief flash of fear crossed Draco's face before it was quickly replaced with a practiced look of indifference. “What is it, Potter?”

“You should know,” Harry said, “I had heard of the Dark Collective before you got poisoned.”

Draco looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” He asked, absently running a hand through his hair.

Harry longed to run his hands through those soft locks again, but he had to get through his before they could do anything else. It was only fair. “A file about the group had crossed my desk not long ago,” Harry said. “I initially wrote it off as nothing, just the typical paranoia about former death eaters attempting to regain their glory. I get at least one of those reports a week. But even then something felt off about this one. There were too many unsolved cases linked together, too much that couldn't be explained.” Harry got up from the bed and began pacing the floor, carefully avoiding Draco’s eyes. “I started doing some investigating into the matter and got a few names, but everything came up as a dead end.”

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Draco fiddling with something in his hands. “What were the names? Where were the events?” Draco said, surprisingly calmly.

“Oh you know,” Harry replied, “mostly the usual suspects. Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Goyle, Avery, the lot of them. Also some new faces though, people from Durmstrang, a few people from houses other than Slytherin. I investigated them all and got nowhere. As for where, it was mostly disappearances and robberies in muggle-wizard integrated communities. Again, we got nowhere and the links were tentative at best. Eventually, we wrote most of it off as being nothing and the disappearances became cold cases.”

“Ok,” Draco said after a long pause. “So if it's nothing, why are you just telling me now?”

“Because I lied to you when I said I didn't know anything,” Harry says, sitting again on the edge of the bed, holding his head in shame. “Because if I had done more in the beginning, they might have never gotten to you. Because-”

“Harry,” Draco said, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder and turning them towards each other, “it's not your fault. I know you have the insufferable habit of blaming yourself for everything bad that happens in the world, but it's not. You did your job and got nothing concrete. You didn't lie to me because you really don't know anything. Whispers and seemingly unrelated but related events aren't information. I don't blame you.”

Harry couldn't help but smile at the earnest look on Draco’s face. “Are you sure?” He asked in a near whisper.

With a small smile, Draco threaded their fingers together and placed a short kiss to Harry’s lips. “I am.” He said. “Believe it or not, I actually trust you.”

“Draco,” Harry said, voice barely a whisper, as he leaned his forehead against the other man’s.

Draco smiled and kissed him. “I should go.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry said, though he was uncertain if he meant it.

“Yes,” Draco said, kissing Harry’s knuckles, “I do. Tonight has been amazing. Part of me doesn’t want to walk out that door because there is every chance that tomorrow morning you’ll come to your senses and realize this is a terrible idea. But when you finally choose me, I want it to be because you want to and not because of adrenaline or passion or impulse. I need to know it’s as real for you as it is for me.”

Harry leaned over and pulled Draco into an insistent but slow kiss. “You’re right,” he said against Draco’s mouth. “It will be so much better if we wait.”

Draco shook his head and bit his lip. “Ok,” he said, slightly breathless, “I really have to go now.” With that, he stood and headed to the door. “Last thing, before I go. I have something for you. Hold your hand out”

With a wave of his wand, a beautifully intricate purple origami rose materialized in Harry’s hand. Harry smiled as he turned it back and forth.

“Before you go to bed tonight, tap it twice and say secreta revelare,” Draco said. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Draco.”

As soon as he heard Draco’s door close, Harry let himself fall back on the bed. Tonight had been absolutely nothing like Harry had been expecting. Part of him knew he should be terrified of everything that was happening, but all he could seem to feel was purely happy. His lips tingled from the memory of Draco’s against them. For the first time in longer than Harry cared to admit, he was happy. There was so much happening that was uncertain, but this one thing he knew for sure. He wanted to be with Draco Malfoy and Draco Malfoy wanted to be with him. Harry couldn’t help the small bubble of slightly hysterical laughter that escaped his chest.

With a smile, he scrambled up the bed to his wand. Holding his presently gently, he tapped it three times and said the spell. Slowly, the paper fell away and disappeared revealing a beautiful lilac rose whose petals were lined with silver that shone in the dim light of the room. Harry touched in gently with a small sigh.

With one final look at his beautiful present, Harry turned out the light and fell into dreams that happily featured blonde hair, soft lips, and piercing grey eyes.


End file.
